We've all been there
Yesterday at the airport I was singled out for security screening, probably because I bought a one-way ticket the day before I traveled. (Gee, Julie, you think?) Now, on the one hand, it was stupid of me to pack my meds and needles in my checked baggage; theoretically they could have been lost. On the other hand, I am not sorry I didn't try to carry them on. The full-body patdown was bad enough without having someone paw through my personal stash.
Not only did I get patted down with gloved hands and wanded with a metal detector that made exciting theremin noises, I had to take off my belt, my shoes, and my jewelry. So compliant am I by this point that I also attempted to take off my pants, eagerly reassuring the TSA agent, "No, it's okay. The wand you're using will fit."
The hotel where I'm staying is frequented by IVF patients because the clinic is in the same building. My room is being cleaned right now by a petite, young-looking Latina.
P, Y-L L: Oh. The paper say you checking out today.
Julie: Nope! I'm here for about two weeks.
P, Y-L L: Ohhhhhhh! You come for baby?
Julie: I hope so!
P, Y-L L: [laughs] I got four. Too much!
Yesterday at the airport while I waited for my flight to board, I sat next to a woman with two small children. She was doing a beautiful job of keeping the older kid, a boy of about three, occupied with conversation and snacks, but the baby she carried was fretful and started to cry. She looked around apologetically at the other passengers as the baby's cries escalated into screams. A grandmotherly type smiled reassuringly and told her, "Don't worry. We've all been there."
And I guess we all have, on one end of that relationship or the other.