A Blatantly Stolen Story

I’m usually not one for telling other people’s stories here at the Dry Spot. But I got this one across the internet transom from an old high school friend of mine who lives in Mexico. It sounds like something Rex L. Camino would write, and I’ve always wanted to be able to write like him; so here it is.

Pretend I wrote it. Hell, I didn’t even retype it. It’s just a ctrl-A, ctrl-C, ctrl-V job. I’m worthless and weak.

Without further adue:

So, I was flying from Mexico City to Los Angeles last week, and I had a personal and somewhat dangerous encounter with the fear of Liquids on a Plane. When I was about to board the plane in Mexico City a nice, but rather dull woman reviewed the contents of my carry-on baggage and discovered the presence of — gasp — two vials of insulin. She immediately shot a flare, and a nice but rather dull airport employee came to find out what all the fuss was about. She showed him my insulin with a look of sheer panic on her face. He took a quick look at my little, red, velcro-enabled insulin wallet, and asked, “How much insulin do you have here?”

I pulled out the two vials and laid them on the table in front of the two dullards. He carried on, “Did you bring any syringes?”

I counted the syringes, which were also in the wallet, and told him that there were nine. He scurried off to consult someone who apparently had more expertise in the use of insulin as a bomb. In the right hands six milliliters of insulin can go a long way. Apparently.
The nice man returned to ask me whether I had a prescription. I informed him that we were in Mexico, which I presumed he already knew, since he was Mexican and we were speaking Spanish; that I lived in Mexico; that I had bought the insulin in Mexico; and that in Mexico a prescription was not required for any type of insulin, including the two types he was worried about.

He said, “You just get a doctor to give you a prescription.”

Oh, so that’s what you do. Cool. So, the normal procedure is that for all non-prescription medication that one is interested in taking, the best plan is to go to a doctor to ask for a prescription that you won’t need. I like it. Then, the nice lady proceeded to inform me that in Mexico one in fact did need a prescription to buy insulin.
I’m quite certain that I buy more insulin than she does, like the insulin I had bought the day before without a prescription, and I’m also certain that she had no idea what she was talking about. They were just trying to beat me down.

Then, they told me to take all the insulin I would need on the plane, as they were going to take the rest. He said, “Enough is enough.
¡We’ve got to keep these motherfreakin’ liquids off this motherfreakin’ plane!”

I tried to argue that it wasn’t that simple. After all, if insulin dosages actually worked the way they imagined, wouldn’t I have just taken all my insulin for the trip at home and not bothered to carry it around with me? I decided not to press the issue, though, as I really didn’t want to get arrested, which was starting to seem rather likely. Plus, I had already made the plane fifteen minutes late. Or somebody had. They took my insulin wallet and placed it in a large, black garbage bag, tied it in a knot, and gave me a baggage claim ticket for it. I felt certain I would find a garbage bag with a bunch of broken glass and insulin in it on the belt in Los Angeles.

It’s heartening to see that the War On Terror has been conflated with the War On Diabetics. It’s a good way to combine the use of resources. I just hope that when they kill someone with these policies, they feel really, really safe as they do it. I’m also glad it wasn’t me this time.

Also, remember that the syringes couldn’t possibly have been used as weapons, since not only are they designed not to injure you, they are also designed not to hurt.

Don’t take Liquids on a Plane,


3 Responses to A Blatantly Stolen Story

  1. jag says:

    That really pisses me off. I mean, I understand the security measures, but it still pisses me off.

  2. John H says:

    This all fits in with the theme of the 21st century…we have a problem, we have a problem, by God, let’s do something about the problem so that we can feel effective and that we are doing something.

    It’s like those kids who carry a plastic knife to school to cut the birthday cake for the rest of the class being thrown into alternative school because they carried a weapon.

    It’s like a kid i know well being caught with one joint, and being tossed out of Hillsboro High School for a year and enrolled into the Cohn Alternative School with NO extracurricular activities, no challenging classes, and great access to a LOT of drugs…i sound bitter, yeah..I know a LOT about this last one

  3. Writing like me is quite easy. One only needs a childhood of untreated head injuries and a great deal of insomnia.

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