Bombs Away

The line swelled. People toting bags for carry-on storage snaked their way to the metal detectors. Cunquisha Abbot placed her items on the belt. She placed her phone, her charger, laptop, shoes, and head scarf on the conveyor belt. She also had chocolates.

“Ma’am, what are these?”

“Clearly it reads ‘Bath Bombs—‘”

“Wait, we can't have any language like that. This is an airport. You can’t say what you just said here.”

“What? Bath?”

“You know what I mean,” Gunther Andres replied.

“Oh, don’t be serious. They're just little balls of soap. They’re the sweetest of delights.”

“Well, I can’t let you take them past this point. This could be a hazard to someone.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I think you’re being ridiculous.”

“Please step aside, ma’am. If you would, follow me into this room.”

Cuquisha followed the instructions of the airport personnel. Andres took special care in ensuring that she had not smuggled anything else that could be considered contraband. He found nothing.

“Okay, ma’am. You can step out now.”

By then her chocolate bombs had disappeared.

“What the hell? Where are my candies?”

Another airport personnel who looked like Andres’ manager stepped forward.

“Ma’am we’re sorry. Your box of sweets did not pass the weight test for food.”

“Is this something new? I thought it was just liquids? And they were only a few ounces at that! I want to speak to your superior!”

“I am my superior,” Myalla Marshall replied.

“Oh, come on. I know y’all have people above you. Let me talk to someone in the C-Suite. I want the CEO.”

“You’re talking about the boss boss?”

“That’s to whom I’m referring,” Cunquisha replied.

The other people in the queue looked frustrated and inconvenienced. Their faces seemed drawn and gaunt. Lips poked out from faces.

Myalla decided to redirect the patrons into a separate line. They began to remove their shoes and their electronic devices and put them into those gray bins.

Cunquisha was damn near furious, but she didn’t let it show. The amount of time that had been lost dealing with Andres and Myalla agitated her severely but she kept her composure.

“Who is going to remedy this situation?” she asked Andres and Myalla.

“We’re working on that,” Andres said.

Cunquisha folded her arms. She paced a bit as Myalla sent another airport personnel to address the alternate line.

“The best way to handle this issue is to just get rid of the soap. I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands. If it were up to me, I would have resolved this without incident, but who am I?” Myalla asked without too much resignation.

Cunquisha shrugged. She watched them discard her bath bombs with impunity. There seemed to be a quiet death inside of her. She almost cried. Not at the money wasted but at the idea she couldn’t pass through. Welled up inside of her, a twisted sense of being violated cept into her soul.

“We’re really sorry about this, ma’am,” Andres replied.

“It’s not a problem. I can still make my flight. I’m not too worried about the bo—soap. I can always buy some more when I get to Delaware.”

“That’s a very positive attitude,” Myalla said. “It’s sad that we cannot reimburse you or restore your time. That is a shame. It’s terrible that brutes have to travel so much for a headache. I want you to know we’re going to strengthen our standards and see if we can alter the procedures. Again, very sorry.”

“No worries. As long as I get to my destination, I’ll be more than fine.” Cunquisha smirked and placed her shoes on her feet.