Naturally, I turned around to find Ian standing beside one of those interior design catastrophes- a short metal table with a blue-clad security man pulling everything out of his bag. Ian turned to me and maybe cursed a little. The nice man said he was going to screen the bag again which could only mean they'd found something but didn't know what it was.
"Knives," Ian hissed to me. "I wasn't thinking."
It wasn't knives alone he had sequestered in his innocuous looking pencil case.The security man came back and told him he couldn't bring his two knives and, "pepper spray, this can't go either". Surprisingly, they realized Ian was maybe a little overwhelmed and underprepared so they took him to the counter, scanned his contraband and were very willing to return the knives to our parents who were still waving back at me saying goodbye. They let us go! Ian was disappointed about his knives.
When we sat down we checked our boarding passes and I told him I had the window seat because I had seat F and F is often a window seat on domestic flights. "Oh, no you don't. E comes after F."
We've made it to Philly and he's choking down yellow, greasy food he wished he hadn't bought but refuses to prove my mom right by throwing away food due to his picky palate. Wish us luck!
