Pressurized cheese?

We’re sitting here in the Newark airport, waiting to board Continental #48, nonstop to Mumbai. Where it’s something like 5:30 tomorrow morning already. Oh god, I am not ready for Mumbai. You know how I do in crowds, noise and chaos. I’m going to ask Devon to keep the camera running so that it’ll be well documented when I implode into a cowering blob o’ goo.

But the trip so far has been lovely. We got ourselves out of the house forgetting only a handful of vital items, braved TSA security and airport food to make our flight. I’ll tell you about the flight later, but first let me put in a word for the thoroughness of our governmental agencies. Yes, we know there are specific regulations on what size nail clippers may be carried onboard, as well as proper handling procedures for banjos, and meat cleavers, but did you know that the TSA has set an explicit limit on how much pressurized cheese a passenger may bring through a security checkpoint? I kid you not. (To save you the trouble of looking, the limit is 3 oz.)

There will, of course, be some debate (at least among the French) over whether that jumbo dispenser of Velveeta is allowed; while not technically “cheese”, it probably falls under one of the other headings of “Corrosive or hazardous materials”.

Anyhow, we’ll be boarding in about 20 minutes. D and I still need to watch the second half of “Gandhi” on my laptop, catch up on our readings for Sunday, and re-synchronize our circadian rhythms by 11.5 hours. Urk.

As they say – more later!

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