Frankfurt Airport...

Welcome to the world of me... it wouldn't be a trip across the ocean with Heather if it wasn't eventful. In fact as I sit here typing (and of course waiting) in the Frankfurt airport, I am listening to two little boys discuss what they would like to be when they grow up. The younger of the two (who is perhaps 6) insists he would like to grow up to be a bus driver. His older and more practical brother is telling him that bus drivers get nowhere in life and that he would do much better as a doctor.

However, the little guy isn't easily persuaded and is avidly arguing in favor of the bus driver plan. After all he points out... “doctors have to deal with blood and guts and are always getting germs and sickness.” Bus drivers on the other hand are “cool” and get to have lots of power “cuz they control the bus”.

But I digress. Back to the story. Was everyone but me aware that the only place in the world you are required to take your shoes off for security checks was the U.S.? They gave me the craziest look in Italy when I took off my shoes.
Wait... back to the boys for a sec... the younger has now informed his big bro that his butt is “waaaaay bigger than his.” Big brother's response? “Well I am older than you and that means that my cheeks are bigger cuz they have had longer to grow”. Interesting. But again I digress.

Soooo... being the smart cookie that I am I asked the man in Germany if I should take off my shoes or no. And he just kind of shrugged and bit and said sure. So I did. Then I took off my coat... my scarf... my watch... my belt. You know the normal. The poor man got a horrified look on his face, held his hands in the air and said, “Now you stop!”

Of course in the not so distant past I would have been mortified... but not now. Now it's just another normal day in the life of me. I walk through the metal detector and all of the security people start chuckling. “Oh look potatoes!” they say. Potatoes? What potatoes? They're still snickering and now they are pointing at my feet.

I look down. The big toe on my right foot is sticking out of an enormous hole in my sock. Potatoes? Toes? Maybe this could make sense but... mmmm... not really.

“I think you have a problem with your sock.” One particularly exuberant guard points out.

“Yes... well...” I shrug as if it's nothing. “These things happen.” The guard continues to make “polite” conversation with me as I re-garb. I'm trying to converse as normally as possible given the interesting circumstance. “Well,” I say as I wrap my scarf around my neck, “thanks and have a great day!” I try for a charming smile but I think it comes out more like an embarrassed grimace (whatever, at least I'm making an effort here). As I walk away he turns to the other guards and I hear him say something about the “American,” who, “took off her shoes!” Thankfully he slips back into German and I am spared the brunt of his comments as they all break into uproarious laughter.

Is your life boring? Just take a trip with me... you're sure to have an “interesting” time.

Sigh. So things have calmed down a bit now. I found my gate, spent some time walking around looking in shops, and finally settled down in my terminal with an “Italian-style” salami sandwich and a German Coke Light. Though I have to say... I was slightly shocked and appalled when I bit into my sandwich and discovered it was full of some type of mayo/cheese spread. Weird... I've been in Italy so long (where sandwiches NEVER have condiments) that having something wet and slimy in my sandwich thoroughly disgusted me. However, after a few bites it started to grow on me... and now I think I may actually like it (in it's own strange German trying to be Italian way).

Well... that's all for now.

Heather

P.S. The boys have settled down for a riveting game of Nintendo D.S. Just in case you were wondering.