Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Terrorists: You've cut me to the quick.
FIRST, you slip ruffie's into my nation's party-punch and steal its innocence while its down for the count. Others have tarnished the innocence, but you outright robbed it. And didn't even call my nation back afterwards like nothing happened to see if you could still be friends.
THEN you make me be barefoot in airports. I don't go to water parks for hygenic reasons (it was a bad day that ended with me in a wave pool with a band-aid that did NOT origniate on my body stuck to my forehead *shiver* Talk about never again.), but I'm made to stand barefoot in the same foot path as 100,000 of my closest fellow air travelers? I have performed countless impromptu stripteases for the TSA folks with belts, barrettes and zippers all aflurry.
THEN you take my water bottle (for with which to make Crystal Light Iced Tea) from me and forbid my use of in-cabin chap stick, for heaven's sake. Parched and chapped, you still take more. You know. Don't fake like you don't. You made me part ways with my ever-so-tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. I'm a freaking nursing student. I live in a constant state of germ-paranoia. And yet, I had to toss my 1 oz bottle of Purell that fit in every purse I have in the Ft. Lauderdale airport. Yeah, I challenged it. Don't think I didn't know that you could really have 1 oz or less of a gel/liquid substance. My TSA screener disagreed and rather than suffer the cavity search, I tossed my hand sanitizer -- contracting and harboring God knows what manner of infestations.
But now you've gone to far. You've reached beyond my air travel into my world, man. My big 10-miler race this weekend. Yeah, I recognize that it's in Washington, DC, the mecca of your hate. And I realize that 24,000+ people gathered for a military-sponsored event through the streets and past the sacred monuments of our nation's capitol is a hard temptation to pass up. However, because of the pervasive fear of your next plot, I have been required to leave my running-red-feather-of-hope at home.
My iPod.
You've taken the gift of song. You've stolen my Erasure and my Air Supply in one fell swoop, and for THIS, I cannot forgive you. Due to the new terms of race-security, you've taken my water-belt and my iPod -- the two items I trained with consistently and with that you think you've taken my will to succeeed.
Well, think again, Terrorist. Though it goes against every fiber of my being, I will run without music or clever lecture series. (Though it would be totally sweet if you'd avoid attacking the race. I hate running without music, but I'm pretty against mass-casualty attacks, too. )
This 10-miles honors those who are fighting. Maybe not fighting the terrorists, but fighting to establish a peace some peoples have never known before. For their sacrifice, I think I can force myself to hum a few bars to myself over 10 miles, or belt it out high-school-musical-style for my fellow runners. (11:30/mile-pace runners BEWARE!)
THEN you make me be barefoot in airports. I don't go to water parks for hygenic reasons (it was a bad day that ended with me in a wave pool with a band-aid that did NOT origniate on my body stuck to my forehead *shiver* Talk about never again.), but I'm made to stand barefoot in the same foot path as 100,000 of my closest fellow air travelers? I have performed countless impromptu stripteases for the TSA folks with belts, barrettes and zippers all aflurry.
THEN you take my water bottle (for with which to make Crystal Light Iced Tea) from me and forbid my use of in-cabin chap stick, for heaven's sake. Parched and chapped, you still take more. You know. Don't fake like you don't. You made me part ways with my ever-so-tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. I'm a freaking nursing student. I live in a constant state of germ-paranoia. And yet, I had to toss my 1 oz bottle of Purell that fit in every purse I have in the Ft. Lauderdale airport. Yeah, I challenged it. Don't think I didn't know that you could really have 1 oz or less of a gel/liquid substance. My TSA screener disagreed and rather than suffer the cavity search, I tossed my hand sanitizer -- contracting and harboring God knows what manner of infestations.
But now you've gone to far. You've reached beyond my air travel into my world, man. My big 10-miler race this weekend. Yeah, I recognize that it's in Washington, DC, the mecca of your hate. And I realize that 24,000+ people gathered for a military-sponsored event through the streets and past the sacred monuments of our nation's capitol is a hard temptation to pass up. However, because of the pervasive fear of your next plot, I have been required to leave my running-red-feather-of-hope at home.
My iPod.
You've taken the gift of song. You've stolen my Erasure and my Air Supply in one fell swoop, and for THIS, I cannot forgive you. Due to the new terms of race-security, you've taken my water-belt and my iPod -- the two items I trained with consistently and with that you think you've taken my will to succeeed.
Well, think again, Terrorist. Though it goes against every fiber of my being, I will run without music or clever lecture series. (Though it would be totally sweet if you'd avoid attacking the race. I hate running without music, but I'm pretty against mass-casualty attacks, too. )
This 10-miles honors those who are fighting. Maybe not fighting the terrorists, but fighting to establish a peace some peoples have never known before. For their sacrifice, I think I can force myself to hum a few bars to myself over 10 miles, or belt it out high-school-musical-style for my fellow runners. (11:30/mile-pace runners BEWARE!)
# posted by Cathy @ 12:13:00 AM 
