On my flight back from San Diego, I was stopped by airport security for something suspicious in my laptop bag. I said a little prayer for the agent, because my bag was overflowing, and I knew it was going to explode all over him in a spray of pens, posty notes, books, and computer cords.
I sat in the surveillance chair while I watched him dig through my bag. His only stern instructions were, “Do not try to touch anything as I remove it from the bag.” I nodded solemnly.
Then, he pleasantly asked about my trip,
“Do you live here in San Diego?”
“Not anymore.”
“Oh, where do you live?”
“Um, currently in Arizona.”
“Oh, why’d you leave San Diego?”
“My husband’s in the Navy.”
“Oh, I see. So is he stationed in Arizona?” he raised an eyebrow and I could see he was trying to figure out where the Navy station might be in Arizona.
“No, he’s in Virginia.”
“Oh, I see.” I could see that he didn’t see.
“We’re in transition now. My kids and I left Virginia last month and are staying in Arizona until we move to Japan this summer.”
“Whoa! Japan! That will be an experience.” I nodded, thinking, You have no idea. He frowned as he reached into the fourteenth pocket. “I’m just going to go run this back through the scanner now.”
I waited, and he came back shaking his head.
“I didn’t find it. Sorry, I’m going to have to take another look.”  I nodded, thankful that my flight was delayed and I had plenty of time. I hoped my boys hadn’t dropped a kitchen knife in my laptop bag over the weekend.
“So, the kids didn’t get to come to San Diego?”
“Yes, they did. My parents drove them out. They drove back today.”
“Oh, but you didn’t drive with them.” I realize that this sounds fishy, even to me.
“I had to work today.”
“Oh, what do you do?” He abandoned his careful poking around and surrendered to just pulling everything out of the bag.
“I’m a teacher.” Then, I realized it is Saturday and he is going to wonder why a teacher is working on Saturday, and I envisioned myself in an interrogation room explaining my insane life. 
Before I can attempt an explanation, he pulled a bronze piano foot pedal out of my laptop bag.
For a moment, I forgot that I was in airport security.
“So that’s where I put it! You found it!” I said.
He looked at me strangely and laughed, “What is it?”
Suddenly, it struck me that the curved foot looked a bit obscene, separate from the piano. 
“It’s a foot pedal to my dad’s piano. When we moved to Pendleton, the movers broke it off, and when we moved from Virginia, I found it, and I put it in a safe place so I could give it to my dad, but then I couldn’t find it. Now you found it!”  I tried to smile naturally. “I guess it made it through security on the flight out here, because I didn’t know it was there.”
“Um, ok. Wait here.” He took the three trays holding the contents of my bag and the foot pedal back over to the screening. I couldn’t see the screening woman’s face. He walked back with a smile.
“Ok, we’re clear now. Can’t say I’ve ever found one of those in a bag before,” he said.
“Well, I hope not, they are usually attached to upright pianos.” Then, I blinked and started loading my bag, realizing that I have become the crazy lady at the airport—all I need is an iguana on a leash. Can’t wait to fly to Japan.
“Have a good flight.”