You Have a lot of Abstinence

I’d been stopped by the Airport security. Shoeless, jacketless, pocketless, and metaless, they escorted me over to a very attractive and very French guard who proceeded to go through my materials. He said he didn’t intend to dispose any of my liquid-bearing makeup, he just hoped to organize it for me.

It was like the hotel maintenance forgot to pack my bags for me when I left. By my standards, I didn’t think my purse/backpack/duffel bag were that disorganized, though I could tell this French guy, though polite, was very disappointed with how much crap he had to sift through. Canadian crap. You know, the kind you buy in Canada.

We engaged in polite conversation about what there was to eat in the airport. He said “Burger King.” I said “Blech.” He seemed actually disappointed that I didn’t like Burger King, and asked me about it just to reaffirm my distaste. As he poked and prodded and drug tested through floral undergarments and five-finger-discounted hotel soaps, he asked me what I did for a living. “Drama teacher” I said. “I am impressed”, he retorted in broken English.

We smiled and chit-chatted as he prodded through my deodorants and creams when he said “You have a lot of, how you say, abstinence?” Do I have a lot of abstinence? I thought I usually come off a little more nubile than that, though maybe the cotton Hanes and hotel soap fetish implied otherwise. Any fantasies of me with this hunky french airport security guard went straight out the window before I even think them into existence.

I must have looked confused. I didn’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. Do I look like a prude? Does that mean he doesn’t want to date me? Should I be more provocatively dressed the next time I leave the Montreal airport? Would that make him want to date me? Would the fact that we live in two very different places also affect the outcome of any dating situation? Would I be able to tell my mother I’m dating an airport security guard? Would I be able to tell my father I’m dating a French Canadian? Also, how can one have “a lot” of Abstinence?

Noticing my bewildered facial expression, he corrected himself. “You have a lot of, how you say, nonsense?” he blushed. “And now all your liquids (all my makeup) are in one place (they were before).”

Another passenger lined up to be checked out and I was actually sad our conversation had come to an end. I wanted to say, ‘Why don’t you come visit me in New York and misuse awkward English words some more” but I knew he wouldn’t understand me. Instead, I hung around a few moments longer, and put my moccasins back on in the most provocative way I know how…on my feet. Yowza.