I have a purse about the size of a mass market paperback book. It’s my going out purse when I don’t want to carry much except my money, ID, phone and keys. It’s the purse I use for soccer games.
Usually I stuff the bag into my jacket and skip bag check. I can’t remember the all the things you aren’t supposed to bring in. But the list is like weapons, sticks, offensive signs and outside food and drinks. Obviously I can’t fit any of those items into my dinky purse so it seems stupid to check the bag.
Last night I didn’t have my jacket zipped and I was right at the turnstile with the guy scanning my ticket when this security lady started screaming, “BAG CHECK! BAG CHECK! BAG CHECK!”
I realized she was pointing at me so I had to take my ticket out of the guy’s hand and go back to the security table where I unzipped my bag for a nice man and said, “That lady wants you to check my purse.”
He glanced in and laughed and said, “Hey, you could have dynamite in there.”
Meanwhile, my jacket had giant pockets which was where I stashed my plastic pants, my knit hat AND MY CONTRABAND COOKIES.
Remember my broken wheel from my chair at the office? Here’s the broken wheel.
Here’s the box from Master Caster. Is that the best name for a business or what?
Here’s the selection. None of them really fit my chair but I made do with one that’s close enough.