It’s the books

Of our eight bags – four carry-ons and four “personal items” – mine was the only one flagged for further inspection. The security guy smiled ruefully at me as he swung my bag onto the metal table. After asking permission, he unzipped the main compartment and said, “it’s the books.” I must have looked perplexed because he followed up, “The screener showed a large block of biological material. It’s the books.” He rifled haphazardly through the rest of my bag, but he already knew he wouldn’t find anything else: it was the books.

I could almost feel my teens – who, for the record, did NOT have any books in their bags – roll their eyes. My partner shook his head disbelievingly, “You got flagged for books?” Me? I quickly calculated how many books I had packed: only two… in that bag.

All told, I took three books, one journal and one agenda on vacation. Three books is a reasonable amount for a week, if you ask me: one I was finishing, one I planned to read while I was there, and one I’ve been nibbling on, in case the other one didn’t work out. The journal is self-explanatory, right? And the agenda, to be fair, was an oversight: I’m used to having it with me, and forgot to take it out. 

For the record, I finished both the first and the second books and was back to nibbling at the third by the time we were on our way home. Of course, I had also received two more books and a blank journal as gifts. If you’re keeping count, that means I was headed home with five books, two journals an agenda… and a teeny sudoku puzzle book that I forgot to count on the way out because really, it barely qualifies. Wary, I tried to split my “large block of biological material” between my two bags.

My efforts were for naught: I got flagged by security. This time, I started the conversation.

“It’s the books.”

The TSA agent eyed me up and down. I can only imagine what he saw. He turned to my backpack and peered into its depths. “Yup, it’s the books.” 

“I read a lot,” I tried to sound apologetic, but I suspect I failed.

“What I want to know,” he mused, “is will you really read all of these on this trip?”

I started to explain about the one to finish and the one to read and the one just in case and the gifts, but I suddenly knew how that would sound to him. I almost explained that I am an English teacher and that I love to read. I wanted to tell him about the one I’d just finished and…instead, I said lamely, “Well, you never know.”

I reclaimed my bag, checked the zipper, and headed over to my family.

“Same thing?” asked my partner.

“Yup,” I smiled, “It’s the books.”

And I read happily all the way home.