I hate to fly but my wife and I walked into Jacksonville International Airport last Thursday morning at 3 am. It was 73 degrees. I checked our luggage and told the handler I had a pistol in one bag, all legal, of course, unloaded and in a locked box and all that. Then we had to go through the body scan and Anne went through first, then me. I shut the place down as buzzers and bells went off. They took me aside and swabbed a white cloth patch across my hand. I knew I was in trouble right then because I had test fired the pistol earlier that morning. Sure enough, more buzzers went off. When I finally got out of wrist bracelets and leg shackles, I was allowed to proceed. When I finally found Anne, she pretended not to know me, even going so far as to swap seats with someone else so I could not sit with her. That is until we got to Sioux Falls later that day. Then she was proud to know me again.
We landed at Atlanta International shortly thereafter. It was 60 degrees. I thought that was cool. If I had known what lay ahead, I would have just waited there for my wife to come back through, but in my ignorance, I forged ahead into the unknown.
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