Friday night was shot night again. Filling the syringe was only slightly less daunting although mixing the medicine was easier and the sickness that followed was definitely reduced. No fever at all so he actually managed to sleep some. I suppose Jimmie could have just had an easier reaction, but I think it was because I saturated him with Vitamin C.
Saturday was . . . interesting. I headed to the Atlanta airport early arriving even before the suggested 75 minutes pre-flight, then got stuck in the biggest mess imaginable. I had heard folks complaining about the security measures there but did not understand just how bad it was. First, I walked down to the South Security checkpoint since I was in the South Terminal - but it closed with the man directly in front of me because it was too full. I was told to walk back to the main security checkpoint where I got in the world's longest line. I have to say that it was organized and everyone trudging along was pleasant . . . except for the young couple who tried to cut from the back of the line all the way to the front. When they got sent back down again a few minutes later their scowls put the rest of us standing our turn into a much better mood.
But I may have been scowling myself a few minutes later. Since my knee replacement surgery I have carried a card with me for just such occasions to show that I have metal in my body. Last year when we flew more than 25,000 miles and went through security checks in numerous airports I always showed them my card before walking through the machines so they would know. Sometimes that was all it took, others they did a quick scan with their magic wand to confirm the only metal was where I said it was and I was cleared to go. 2 - 3 minutes tops.
Not so Saturday.
I showed my card before walking through the metal detector and was directed to the little clear plastic cage as I expected. And there I waited . . . and waited. I waited for about 10 minutes. By the time the female agent came over to tell me that I would have to have the "pat down" I was getting very worried - and then annoyed. Because this same female agent had been standing about 5 feet away the whole time doing nothing in particular that I could see other than ignoring me. And the "pat down" took another forever. The only time I had ever been frisked as those cop shows call it had been at an airport in Ghana in 1983 - a very unpleasant experience. This frisking was way more thorough and embarrassing. The agent had asked me if I wanted to move to a private room, but I replied that I didn't have the time, just get it done. Then she tells me that the "pat down" was because I went through the wrong machine. If I had chosen the body scanner I would not have had a problem. Lovely. That would have been useful information to know BEFORE instead of just going to the line where I was directed. By the time I reached my gate the flight had already boarded so at least I didn't have to stand in a line there.
Still, the weekend was worth the hassle. Getting to hold Jasper, my newest grandson, for just a little while was wonderful. Flying back to Atlanta that afternoon bringing Cole with me to spend the week with us was fantastic. But hearing Jimmie read a bedtime story to him tonight was priceless.