My Worst Nightmare

Some people have nightmares of themselves dying.

Or a family member

Or a friend.

Maybe even being naked in a crowded room.


My nightmare... (cue swamp fog all over the floor) is waiting at the airport for my luggage to come from under the black shroud; and instead finding all my cutesy undies and the bras I would never show anyone strut out. On legs of their own. Smiling. With photographers taking pictures like they - each item - is a supermodel.

Freddy Krueger has cometh.

Every year, I ask the one piece of luggage I have ever owned, (hence from this moment on to be known as seabiscuit), to make it one more trip. Every trip I promised the grinded down wheels, and loosened threads "No Mas".

Every year, it goes another trip.

I waited with everyone else who was on my flight. Unassuming and patiently awaiting my (1) carry on.(A severely tweezed out queen snatched from me during boarding because his slender little fingers said I was over the inch limit.) I saw a heap of womens and little boys undergarments come out first. My G-string because no matter at what weight I am I think I am cute and the boys Digimon splashed tighty whiteys.

Then there was seabiscuit -1/2 opened - looking like it just through up on itself. I would of snatched it all up and righted the wrong immediately. But for one little detail...

Remember....?
(Well Gracey got me back)

A top of what I heard someone snicker,
"looks like Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore's luggage"...Was my dildo.

The one I packed - thinking it was sooo funny - to be able to say I GOT SOME in Florida - without truly coming in contact with a male. All pink and 7" of it - was on top of my panty and bra pedestal.

The one that fell to the floor and rolled under somewhere with every passenger of jetblue flight 52 staring after it hypnotized with every roll.

I was mortified.
(I am never mortified),because I have a sick sense of humor like that.

I WAS MORTIFIED.

Amid the whispers, laughs, gasps and "OH MY LORDS!" (some southern couple kept piping in with). I did what anyone else in my position would do.

Deny, deny, deny.

I joined in with the uncomfortable laughter, shooed the boy away from me so the power of deduction would not give my identity away and I pretended to be on my cellphone. Actively having banter with Ria's voicemail.

The jetblue employees began to gather. My panty parade was on display, Last years Victoria's secret laundromat faded collection was on the runway. All the boys were DYING TO KNOW who owned the "TANGS" the old man in the Southern accent had never seen before until today.

I was smiting them all with my eyes. The invisible heat lasers were hitting them all and they weren't dying. I closed my eyes and started to wish them away. That's when Mrs. Jetblue had an Epiphany.... "Somewhere on it, must be some ID. Pull it off the belt and let me page the owner".

I didn't have enough time to abandon everything and make it to an exit. She already spotted the intercom system to page and was making her way to it. The boy has hearing like a German Shepherd. He would of given me up in a heartbeat. He would of squaked like Darryl Hannah in splash when she said HER name. I swallowed the knot in my throat and came forward. Had I not, (surely the boy would of "MOM THEY ARE CALLING YOU"-'d me until I did.)

I fessed up, collected my "TANGS" and that bra that is so comfortable but looks like the Moth's Taj Majal and left the airport.

I vowed to not go back - EVER. My way of getting home I decided would be:

to SWIM BACK.