Writing this from the airport quickly while sitting at my gate.

So I got tagged for the extra-special treatment this time around. They walked me over and the guy said “Arms out to the side, take two paces back.” He wands me and pats me down and decides he has to run my wallet through a machine.

Meanwhile a woman is pawing through my bags, looking as bored as humans can possibly look.

“He has some books,” she said to the guy. He nodded and gave me a look. Oh, I knew then this would be fun.

So she takes out the books: Dhalgren and The Tale of Genji (I like to travel with really big fucking books that I know I have a really stellar chance of not finishing before I get home, two large books versus six smaller ones, you know?) and sets them on the table.

She starts to flip through them.

She picks up Genji and walks it over to the guy. They mutter between themselves. She comes back to me and sets the book down again.

“Is there a problem with the book?” I ask.

“We’re still working,” she says to me, going back to the pawing and the boredom.

She packs all of my things except the book. That she calls over a supervisor to look at. He comes over, talks in low hushed tones with her and picks up the book.

“Yeah, good book,” he says and hands it to her to put in my bag.

I have no clue what that was about, really. Then they lost my boarding pass for a few minutes. It was a game of “It’s over there with that guy.” as I wandered from one very close place to the next. Finally I found the guy who took it and asked him.

“I gave it to,” he said and stopped to think, “no I didn’t.” Then he pulled it out of his pocket where he had put it, forgetting to hand it to someone.

They were as professional as possible, considering. I just still want to know why 11th century Japanese novels are a problem. And don’t suggest that they are dumb, stupid or otherwise mentally, culturally or otherwise challenged. This isn’t a call for insults. Just a bit of life.