I couldn’t believe it. France had stolen my orgasms!
I relayed my injustice to a friend who was traveling with me. She had a good laugh, and a few weeks later after returning from Amsterdam, she presented me with an early birthday present: a travel vibrator. “The Netherlands apologizes on behalf of France,” she said.
Shortly after that, I returned to the United States. Before landing in New York, my flight stopped in Canada, which meant I had to drag all my crap through Security again. I was dangerously close to missing my flight to New York and I had no time or patience to deal with the extremely chatty and curious Security agent.
Piece by piece, she began taking things out of my backpack and asking questions.
My book, Atlas Shrugged: “Oh, wow, is this a good book? I’ve never read it.”
Maybelline Great Lash Mascara: “I’ve heard this is the brand to use. You like it?”
My Canon digital camera: “Well, this is sure a fancy piece of equipment.”
I noticed the people behind me in line starting to get restless and annoyed. I also noticed that there were two extremely good looking men in line right behind me. And that’s when I remembered. My travel vibrator was in the outside pocket of my backpack (did I really think I’d get that needy on the trans-Atlantic flight?). Shit! I wanted to intervene but I was just too tired. She went into the pocket and pulled it out by the carrying string.
“And what’s this?” she asked.
“That,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion thanks to extreme fatigue, “is my travel vibrator.”
I heard the two good-looking men in line behind me start to laugh. A woman in the next Security line over hugged a small child close to her bosom, to shield her from the obscenity. The Security agent said nothing; she just dropped the vibrator back in the pocket and began quietly packing up my things.
I made my flight to New York that night, but just barely. When I arrived, I gathered all my bags and dropped my exhausted body into a cab.
