Crackberry Jam for Missionary Cougars

I made all my connections like clockwork, which is a rare event. Leaving the house in Chetumal, Mexico at 10:30 p.m. headed for the bus station, I caught a cab right away. Arriving at the terminal not even 15 minutes later, I bought a ticket for the executive class, midnight bus to Cancun. No stops in between, it was a straight shot up the highway to Cancun and I arrived at the downtown bus terminal at 5:20 a.m., just in time to get the 5:30 shuttle to the airport, a 45 minute ride.

So I am at the airport in Cancun, too early to check into my Spirit Airlines cheapo flight to Detroit. I am prepared though with my book and turkey bagel sandwich brought from home and Starbucks is right there beconing me. I have my laptop case and a regular size suitcase, and the place is deserted except for me and the Starbucks lady. I wheel my suitcase over to a nearby table and go to the counter to order a coffee to sip while I eat my bagel brought from home. I don't pay airport prices if I can help it. I would rather bring a sandwich from home than order some expensive piece of nothing.

As I turn and walk back to my table, I see her coming towards me totally dolled up at 6:15 a.m. We are the only two in sight. I don't believe in dolling things up just to get on an airplane with people I will never see again. I am not here to impress anyone, I am just getting from Point A to Point B. I am wearing my Mexican Frida dress and just want to be cool and comfortable in the 103 degree heat. Miss Purple Glitter Eyeshadow with her bling bling shirt and high heels and her enormous suitcase wheel up to the Starbucks counter and order a fancy expensive coffee drink. I am not really paying attention because it is all about the turkey bagel sandwich with dijon mustard now and the John Grisham novel for the next hour. But I do turn my head as she bulldozes her way through the tables and chairs to get to the couches with her coffee and enormous suitcase talking on her blackberry. I watch her as she plops down and starts screaming into the blackberry "WHAT THE FOK! SO YOU ARE FOKING NOT GOING TO FOKING PICK ME UP FROM THE FOKING AIRPORT??!!!! WELL FOK YOU! and then she whips her blackberry, which then becomes a crackberry, across the room and it lands at my feet. What am I supposed to do now, kick it back at her and yell "YOU'RE IT!" I should have just minded my own business because while I was enjoying the SCENERY, the tomato from my turkey bagel sandwich was slowly sliding out the bottom and rolling down the front of my white Frida Dress.

I am trying to clean up the buffet I have created down the front of me and the crackberry phone is still on. I can hear him, the nameless faceless man "Babe... babe... babey... you know I love you... babe... babe... answer me."

The phone went quiet for a few moments and I thought he had hung up and I hear again "Baaaaabbbbbeeeeeeyyyyyy!" loud and clear like its coming from the airport announcement speakers.

Eventually she retreived her phone, not one glance in my direction, nonplussed. I buried myself in my book and didn't even glance up when the newly arrived athlete decided to do olympic stretches at the table next to me. By that time I had pushed my Permanent Ignore button.

Most of the trip was uneventful. I had my aswers practiced and ready in my head
when going thru immigration on entering the U.S. at Detroit Metro. The waitress, oops I mean stewardess passing out the immigration forms made it very clear that if you made a mistake on your form you were NOT going to get a new one. The mistake I made was in the writing of my residence. I do not live in the U.S., and realized this slip up before landing. I physically live in Mexico more than in Belize right now, so I put a slash mark after U.S.A. and wrote Mexico, then realized that I don't have residency in Mexico, I am on a 6 month multiple entry visa, which I had to turn in at the airport since it was going to expire while I was gone. My real residency is Belize, so I put a slash mark after Mexico and wrote Belize.

Trouble brewing, and I felt it. No time to make up a story. The immigration lady officer wasn't too interested, glancing up and down at the salad bar buffet imprinted on my Frida dress. However, the customs agent was absurdely curious. A young guy, tall and probably in his late 20s or early 30s commented on the USA/Mexico/Belize residency and asked me the trick questions.
Customs Officer: "How long have you been out of the country?"
Me: long pause.."Its been 10 months since I left"
Customs Officer: "What were you doing while you were out of the country?"
Me: long pause... "Well, I'm a painter and a photographer."
Customs Officer: "So, what were you doing while you were out of the country?"
Me: "Painting pictures and taking photographs."
Customs Officer: "So did you just go down there and hook up with someone?"
(I am thinking... what does this have to do with smuggling flora and fauna?)
Me: "Well, my husband is Belizean, we have been married for 4 years, so I guess the answer is yes."
Customs Officer: (with a funny look on his face) You can pass...
Me: "Huh?" I am mentally preparing for the "Search"
Customs Officer: Its o.k. you can go
As I am walking away... I start to wonder... was he flirting with me? And I sigh, well that is just magical thinking. I decide that next time I am just going to tell them I am a missionary.

I wheel into the arrivals area and Supergirl is waiting for me with the big ole Lincoln at the curb, and the first words out of her mouth aren't "Hi Mom, nice to see you, been a long time, what presents did you bring for me?" But rather.....
Supergirl: That outfit is screaming "STRIPSEARCH" (as she looks up and down the salad buffet Frida dress)
Me: Must be the crotchless panties.
Supergirl: Gross
Me: You started it...