December 22, 2009. History was made when I went on my first solo vacation. Destination: Trinidad & Tobago. Birthplace of calypso and steel pan music, the world-famous Carnival ... and ME. Considering I'd only been back twice since 1989, these visits are priceless. Although the "pricefull" ticket might reflect otherwise ...
This five-day get-away was ALL ABOUT ME ... and a friend's wedding. It was the best five days of my life, as cliche as that sounds. But it really was. I rediscovered myself in many ways. (Stop thinking nasty). Happiness galore. Shopping, FOOD, family, FOOD, beautiful beaches, FOOD, tropical breeze, good friends, FOOD, little mini adventures here and there, FOOD, the sweet Christmas season and decor, the wedding ... and FOOD.
Inevitably, the dreaded moment arrived. Packing for my morning departure, or should I say, "mourning" departure. Tears fell from the second I zipped my suitcase. A sad ride to Piarco International Airport in Port of Spain, Trinidad.
I packed smart and wore very comfy clothes and shoes, knowing how chaotic traveling tends to be. A nice plain, hip-length blouse. Some black, very light gouchos (those pant-skirt things) and flip-flips (but dressy ones).
Surprisingly, I made it through check-in smoothly and in no time I was in line heading for the customs phase. I held my favorite cousin/BFF's hand till we could no longer hold on. Both in tears, I said my final goodbyes, feeling like my heart might suddenly stop.
Up came the security check. As all my stuff was sliding through the x-ray scanner, I had to walk through the metal detector doorway. Because of an airport security incident in the news, an added security step was put in play. I had to stand legs a few feet apart and arms extended out east and west for a pat-down.
The vicious-looking female security guard ordered me not to move and began at my shoulders patting like she was looking for artillery under my skin, maybe hidden in my internal organs. When she got to my waist, something happened that dried my tears along with my humility.
Her latex gloves and the material of my gouchos apparently fell in lust because they refused to let each other go. So as she patted me "down," my pants decided to follow. I kept my eyes straight ahead, and felt a tickle at my ankles, odd because my pants didn't fall far past my knees. The harsh reality was that I had just mooned half of Piarco airport with the flashiest, most fluorescent red "under-covers" I owned! TMI??? Well just imagine how the innocent bystanders felt!
I think I was literally obeying the "don't move" command while in the utter shock of what just happened, and the guard had to order me to "pull em up!" No apology was issued, which kind of ticked me off. But the pat-down ended abruptly and I was hurried along. Guess they realized I was harmless, aside from my drawers that should have come with a safety tag saying "could cause temporary blindness."
I repelled any sense of humiliation by convincing myself I was a super model and that whoever saw my ASSets became, indeed, blessed. So I held my celebrity head up high (and my pants pulled up to my chest) and moved along my merry way to the departure gate. I felt naked the entire rest of the way, but I found my happy place playing Bejeweled on my BlackBerry.
To my dumb luck, all the people who received the red moon curse (or blessing) happened to be headed to the same gate. NO escape from the glares and whispers. I got "the look" from Piarco all the way to Bush Intercontinental, but whatever, bitches! You all got a treat! Eye of the beholder, baby. lol The END! :)
Stay tuned for Awkward moment #7 - "All in a day's quirk"