Sagabite

Leslie passed along this airport and security story:
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Where were you the day that Johnny Cash and John Ritter died?  Only the most rabid fans of these guys could answer that question.  Although I am only a casual admirer of these two, I can account for almost every minute of this day.  Why?  One reason is that it was the first day of my honeymoon.   It was also the day my wife was refused entry into the United States.

The second anniversary of 9/11 passed quietly for most people.  Not so quietly for me however- it was the day I married my Canadian wife.  By the evening of September 12, we would be hoisting beers in the backyard of our Florida home.  Or so we thought.

We arrived at Pearson Airport in Toronto hours early, hoping to clear customs and grab something to eat before the flight.  I passed through customs with no problem, settled down at the bar on the ‘US side’ and ordered a coffee.  I was not worried about my wife getting through-she was a 60-year-old white woman married to a US citizen after all.

CNN was on in the background.  CNN is on in every airport I have ever been in-they must have a contract or something.  They are reporting that Johnny Cash and John Ritter have died.  Sad.  I watch their video obituaries and wait.

Fifteen minutes pass.  I notice a turban bob by the window.  Where is my wife?

Thirty minutes.  I’m getting a little worried.  A white guy, with dreads that look like they could hold a grow-op, passes by.  “Now THERE is a guy I would look at very closely,” I thought.  Where the hell is my wife?

Forty-five minutes.  Panic is setting in.  I have switched from coffee to beer.  I am staring at my cell phone, willing it to ring.  CNN is showing old clips of “Three’s Company” and playing “Walk the Line”.  What is happening to my wife?

One hour.  I am freaking out as I order my second beer.  I call a local friend and ask if she has heard from Lynn.  She answers in the negative.  This is definitely NOT good-not at all.

Around the first boarding call for our flight, my cell phone rang.  It was my wife.  She would not be entering the US on that day.  If she wasn’t going, neither was I.

A representative of our airline suggested that we try to slip through on a flight later that day, after the customs officers had changed shifts.  However, neither one of us wanted to do that.  Each of us had been through enough for one day.

In addition, once more, the post-9/11 reality hit home. Life as we knew it was never going to be the same.