We Flew Every Other Day for Five Days

Day 1 - LAX to Houston
Frank Da Cabbie was right on time to pick us up at 5:15 for a 6:35 a.m. flight. As we pulled away from the house, he said, "I lost a good friend yesterday - Dick Clark." (gasps on our part) "Yeah, my wife and I were caretakers for a long time at his Malibu estate." He went on to say that Clark was a very nice guy and Frank didn't think Clark had had any plastic surgery.

Day 3 - Saturday Houston to DFW
The co-pilot's name was given as "Captain Perfecto Gutierrez." I found his first name reassuring...

Day 5 - Monday DFW to LAX
The security guy really did pay attention to my Driver's License. He said, "Can you tell me your first and last names?" (Certainly an odd question) but I said, "Nina Murphy." There is a pause while he studies my paperwork and then he handed it to me and said, "Enjoy your birthday!" (Which is next Wednesday.)

On all three flights we were asked to step into a box? Container? and to put our feet on the orange feet below us, in the orange feet's position. "Clasp your hands over your head..." A bar of light moved across the white screen we each had to face and the Security Guy said, "Okay, you can come forward." It lasted all of 3 seconds and didn't bother me a bit.

Except for these bits -- at LAX the Security Lady approached me and said, "Would you mind if I examined your left knee?" "Certainly not," I said and bent it forward for her inspection. She gingerly felt around on it for maybe another 3 seconds and said, "You may go." And I said, "Actually, it's the right knee that's bad - do you want a look at it, too?" Stern-faced she declined.

At DFW this morning, same procedure except the Security Lady wanted to feel the tops of my arms, where shoulder pads would be had this sweater had them.

Now I'm wondering what the hell is wrong with my good knee...