I have a friend who has a coozy for her cans of diet coke that says, "God must love stupid people because he sure made a bunch of them". She lives in Cincinnati and is constantly encountering what she refers to as "stupid people" on her commute to and from work. Knowing what little I do about the traffic and drivers in that area, I used to sympathize with her until my recent trip to Mexico.
In my last post you heard me complaining about the cold weather and how I hated enduring the long days of winter. Well, my sweet husband got tired of hearing about it and took me to our little place on the Baja. Ahhh, sunshine and warm weather. No one to pull me this way and that. I don't care if it is a small trailer, with no electric, I love it! But getting back into the country is another story. By the time I got home, I felt so stupid. Morris, who works in my office, hates for me to use the word stupid, but insist I am ignorant. Well, I suppose I am...ignorant to being able to keep up with all the changing security measures of getting back into the USA after going out of it.
Back to my stupid people story. Going through customs has to be one of the less dignified things I have had to endure, next to the gynecologist.. and he rates second because he is nicer. I know that customs has to deal with a lot of "stupid people" asking 100's of stupid questions all day long, but I hate feeling like I fall into that category. Endless mazes that are suppose to be lines, taking your shoes off, your jacket or sweater, your belt, change, hat, phone, any meds you have in carry-on, your computer out of the bag, walking through the metal detector and hoping it doesn't ring for fear of a pat-down. Then you pick your dignity and your belongings up, put everything back on, all the while someone is saying..."people if you do not push your belongings into the machine, I will not do it for you and you will just miss your flight" or the lady that is standing in the corner of the line saying" I am not standing here to see that you make it to your connecting flight...I can not answer your questions...I am only standing her to keep you in line, so don't ask me anything". Humm, how much does that job pay? Then you are told to hurry to a different point, pick up your checked bags, and recheck them, then hurry to your next connecting flight on the other side of the airport via bus. It gave me a whole new perspective on herding our horses up. I totally felt like I had been on a merry-go-round by the time, I sank into the little seat on the little plane headed for Kentucky. Whew! we made it, but our luggage did not! Does anyone care that my whole daily routine is in those bags?? No! Remember .."I am not here to answer your questions". Do they have to be so rude to get this job done?... Well, there was the guy that checked my pass port that mumbled "welcome back"...yeah right!
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