Today has been a day spent at airports and airplanes, flying the friendly skies with United and hundreds of others carrying their tons of carryon luggage.
Right now I am waiting for my flight while drinking a cup of coffee and observing the people walk past. And my first thought is this: Why do women wear the shoes they wear on airplanes? Do they like to torture themselves? Or is it their secret weapon? Some of those stiletto heels could, no doubt, be used to hurt somebody, to poke their eyes out, even to stub somebody through the heart. One lady who just walked past me looked like she was in so much pain that she would need help to get to her gate. Her heels were as tall as Mt. Rainer.
I am on my way to Michigan where I will spend two nights with some friends and supporters of Partners. After considering it for a while, I decided to bring some Norwegian brown cheese and some potato tortillas (in Norwegian we just call them lompe or potetlefse since that is what it actually is). I have it wrapped in my carryon. And as you may have expected, it gave the people in security somewhat of a scare. I knew it as soon as I sent my bag through.
‘Hey, look at this,’ said the man behind the scanner. ‘What the heck is this?’ His friend looked at it too, with creeks between his eyes. They searched the crowd and I boldly confessed that it was my bag.
‘Could you come over here a bit,’ said the man with a stern voice. ‘Are you making brownies or something?’
‘No, not at all,’ I said. ‘I am just bringing some cheese from Norway.’
That did not comfort him.
‘OK, lets have a look at this first,’ he said and unzipped my bag. ‘Why do you go all the way to Norway just to buy cheese?’
‘No, no, no, I am not going to Norway, I am going to Michigan,’ I told him. ‘I am going to visit my friends and I thought they may like to try some of this cheese. Do you know what cheese it is? It is made from the whey of the milk. You know that normal cheese is made with the curd, and it leaves the whey. This one is made just from the whey, so nothing goes to waste. You really ought to try it yourself. If you eat it with a piece of toast and a thin layer of jam for breakfast you will love it.’
The security man just looked at me, dumbfounded. He held the cheese, looked at it and said, as if he didn’t know what else to say: ‘OK then. I guess you should just take it with you and have a good trip.’
I smiled, said thank you and was off. I wonder if he will look up Norwegian brown cheese and decide to try it when he gets home tonight.