It became apparent as we trudged our way home yesterday that S.’s brain functions start to slow as he nears St. Louis.

We reached Miami without a hitch, and spent the usual 1.5 hours trying to navigate our way through Passport Control, Customs and then Security again (for the flight to St. Louis). He made it through Passport Control alright, and then we were passed over for Customs, so that was a snap. At Security, just before the metal detectors, however, we had the following exchange:

Security Guy: Does your bag contain a videocamera or laptop computer?
S.: Film.
Security Guy: [puzzled look]
me (to Security Guy, apologetically): No.
me (to S.): Honey, he asked if we had a videocamera or a laptop. The correct answer is, “No.”
(Security Guy tries to hide a grin, S. looks sheepish.)

Once past the strenuous tests at the metal detectors, S.’s brain function passes away into obscurity at Cinnabon. We order our artery-clogging goodies and walk to the condiment bins.

me: Do you need a fork?
S.: Probably.
[Pause]
me: Would you like me to just stand here until you figure it out?

Yes, this is the man I love, losing it in Miami. And no, he will never live it down.

Snickering,
michelle