My mother is currently on her way here from Tampa to spend the weekend with her dear, sweet Lulu.  And perhaps her other daughter.  And maybe her grandchildren.  But that’s beside the point.  At the time of this writing, she’s boarding her plane…or at least I think she is.  There’s also a strong possibility that she’s in TSA jail.  But I guess I’ll find out in about an hour when I’m supposed to be meeting her at the airport.

You see, my mother just called me a short while ago to let me know that she arrived safely at the Tampa airport a mere 3 hours before her scheduled departure to Atlanta.  She likes to be early so that she can find her way to the gate.  Three hours is a good lead time, because God forbid the gate gets changed to the other side of the airport and she ends up getting lost in baggage claim, or the food court, or perchance the long-term parking lot trying to find it.  People?  It can happen.

Anyway, shortly after the initial Eagle-has-landed call, I get another call from my mother.  This time, she is frantic and slightly out of breath.  My first thought is, God forbid!  She’s lost in long-term parking!  With someone else’s luggage!  While eating a Big Mac!  Alas, no.  Here is our conversation…

Me (in my professional office voice):  Hullo, this is Lulu.

Mother (breathing heavily):  Lulu!  You’ll…never…guess…pant, pant…what happened!

Me:  What?

Mother:  OMG!  I’m so angry!

Me:  WHAT is wrong?

Mother:  Well, um…pant, pant…you won’t believe what happened!

Me:  GOD FORBID! WHAT?

Mother (possibly crying):  Well, I’m having to throw away my brand new bottle of mousse, a bottle of hairspray, and my tanning lotion!

Me: …

Mother:  There’s a sign that says I can’t take it through security!

Me:  Mother.  Mother!  You can only carry on containers with 3 oz. or less of liquid and it’s all got to fit into a quart-sized zip-top bag.  What do you not understand about this (as I telepathically show her over the phone):

I thought that you knew that?  

Mother:  No!  I thought that you were allowed to carry on that kind of stuff, but not allowed to pack it in your checked luggage!  So, I asked some security woman if she could retrieve my checked suitcase so that I can put it in there.  (I can only imagine what the TSA agent told her.  God bless those people.)

Me: … (shaking head)

Mother:  Do you think that I could just hide it all in my purse and try to go through security?

Me: (banging my head furiously on my desk)  Mother!  Your purse will be x-rayed and/or searched when you go through security!

Mother:  Oh.  Well, I can try it, can’t I?

Me:  IT’S ILLEGAL!!

Mother:  Oh.  Well, I have to go find my gate now.

My dear, sweet, federal law-breaking mother.  I can only hope that she makes it safely to the Atlanta airport along with her checked luggage—which by the way, contains a couple of wool sweaters and socks.  It’s going to be in the 70’s here in Georgia this weekend.  Brr.

Update:  My mother made it safely to Atlanta without incident.  And mousse.