Note 1:   I saw a story on the evening news with the reporter showing a huge plastic bag of confiscated lighters.  
Note 2: Thanks to Starema for her suggestions.  They greatly improved the story.  


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Another overnight business trip.  I’m waiting in the line to go through security.  The line is moving so slowly.

That’s when I see the sign showing what passengers aren’t allowed to carry on the aircraft.  Lighters have been added to the list since the last time I traveled for business.  What has that been – two weeks. How can one keep track?  I thought I paid Cynthia to remind me of these things. 

I think about what I have in my carry-on bag.  Nope, nothing there.  I learned the hard way just after September 11 when I had my razor and manicure set confiscated.  Little scissors, nail clippers, and a metal nail file.  I really liked that kit; it was a Christmas gift from Debbie – you know one of her stocking stuffers.  Eventually, razors and manicure kits and stuff were allowed back in carry-on bags. 

Yeah, it’s a pain.  But we do what we have to do.  Like taking off your shoes.  I hate that. That came after that goofy Brit tried to blow up a plane on its way to Miami with explosives in his shoes.  What whack jobs?

Then I think about what I actually have on my person.  Change, keys, cigarettes, LIGHTER.  

FUCK!  I pat my pocket and there’s the engraved Zippo lighter that Justin gave me for my birthday.  Yeah, I know I don’t do birthdays much less gifts, but it was something that he took the time to buy for me.  Not to mention the engraving.  Nothing mushy, just my initials in a stylized monogram:  BKA on one side and a sunburst on the other. 

I take the lighter out of my pocket and look at it while I smile a little.  Nope.  They’re not going to get it.  It’s a little piece of my Sunshine.  

I turn around and look towards the back of the line.  SHIT.  FUCK.  There are about thirty people in front of me preparing to go through the scanners.  But there are about a hundred or so behind me.  Give or take fifty.

I notice a bank of lockers off to my right.  I think about Justin and his gift as I step out of the line.  Pulling out a few quarters, I walk over to the first available locker, open it, and gently place my engraved Zippo lighter inside, take a sigh, then close the locker door and pocket the key.  

I heft my overnight bag over my shoulder and walk back to the end of the security line.  As I finally move closer to the scanner, the attendant asks if I have any of the items identified on the poster.  That’s when I notice a plastic bin full of lighters.  Mostly disposable ones but there are some like the one I put in the locker.  Lost little reminders from loved ones…Special… like my partner, my Sunshine, my own personal bit of light. Mine is safe, secure in the dark waiting. My little piece of Sunshine that I can keep with me and every time I touch it, I am not alone.

If Justin could see what I just did, what would he do?  Smile his biggest sunshiny smile and think that I’ve lost whatever mind I had left.  That this was a sign of the apocalypse?   Maybe I want to keep this little memento that he gave me and then I can tell him this story years down the road.  Who knows.

After all this, I sure could use a smoke.  Anybody got an extra book of matches? 

But then I’d have to go through all of this security shit again.  I’ll go buy a pack of gum.

As I walk down the concourse to the Liberty Air gates, I have another thought and chuckle to myself.  It’s a good thing that I didn’t set off the metal detector.  I could have been accused of having a steel ball.  Or maybe a brass one like Debbie’s accused me of for years.

April 19, 2005