all too soon, time at home drew to its close and we all fled the scene. in the process, i discovered that i possess two highly significant knowledges: the secret to rock solid ABS (if not them, themselves) and that i know French.
as to the first, let me inform you that, if offered the chance to fly on an airplane for several hours (preferably across a huge ocean and half of a continent) with an ear infection—you should absolutely seize the opportunity. that is, only if you are a thrilled pain seeker or hoping to experience cognizantly the awful pre-verbal truth of childhood diseases. a throbbing eardrum, however, does not mighty muscles make. to achieve that end requires the same fluid provoking a cough that can be hacked out steadily over the span of the ocean and a fuselage-full of containedly angry passengers. the Asian drunk (it's both difficult and not-so these days), the squawking infant, and me.
arriving in Toronto powerful of phlegm, i also found myself carrying a fair bit of contraband in the form of fruits, which i proceeded to eat one by one before approaching the immigration officer. when he took my declaration form and passport, he chastised me for filling out the French one (which i did because i didn't see the part behind the fold, and thought it was a little hegemonic challenge. needless to say, i accepted). frothing at the mouth about its being a legal document and all, he apparently allowed some of said froth to infiltrate his logical realms, maintaining that i could get stopped for a random inspection and some illegality could have just leapt onto me through my ignorance. able to bear it no longer, i seized the card and read off translations of every element, rapid-fire and fire-accurate, down the list. power does exist in the lungs—but having checked (or not checked, as the case may be) those little squares for 20 years, with hands of various sizes and pen grips, and a firm command of cognates surely can help.
i suppose i ought to add a third knowledge to the others: that i couldn't really make it through customs without some banned substances, which i found, much later, in the bottom of my knapsack. and, no, i'm not talking about the half of an angel food cake i used to cushion the altogether too lovely and fragile oil lamp that had already seen Helsinki.
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7 comments:
Lady Bonds' "Life Lesson of Christmas 2006" is that there are three kinds of gifts that are not meant to be carried trans-oceanically: heavy, hard-back books, canned goods, and fragile glass. The only thing that makes carrying said items worse is carrying them *together* in a large suitcase that is otherwise empty of soft materials (e.g., clothes).
But about the customs thing? I've often been so preoccupied hiding one item of contraband (Brie) that I've actually, legitimately forgotten about another (foie gras). What happens if you *actually* forget to declare? Can they still fine you?
That is, "hard-backed" books...
Are you going to share the details of your Amazing ABS Workout Programme with your breathless public?
i'm quite sure i already disclosed the super secret technique. breathlessness is, indeed, a good first step. add an unproductive cough. repeat for 15 hours straight and, by the end, your ABS will be aching and ready to conquer, if not the world, then at least the front pages of glamour magazines.
silly lady bonds: haven't you learned by now that if you "actually forget," you win—both materially (you can have and eat your goods, of course they cannot fine you post factum) and eternally (you have achieved the perfect innocence that cannot be taken away).
grandpa boerman story: heading to New Zealand, bags full of such illicits as a whole ham, pork roast, and cheese, when inquired about their contents, he pats the suitcase and says "just think of me as Father Christmas." of course such witty charm results in his immediately being full-body searched—by which i mean, waved right through....
I would never be able to pull off the Father Christmas stunt. Too darn thin.
Thank you for your further information about your "a's ABS Technique". I look forward to a full line of exercise mats, yoga-style clothing, electronic abdominal cough-stimulators, and bronchial virus strains.
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