America's Most Wanted ... here I come?

So, it started out with a list of errands. Go here, go there, run in, run out.

Then, we hit #4 - drop off the gold-plated copy of my birth certificate that the Social Security office required to determine I was really disabled enough to stay home.

First of all, we get directions - the Social Security office is located downtown in the new Federal Building, across from Lincoln Center. Oh, yeah, of course! Whatever.

So, we go downtown and try to figure out if the Fed is at 4th and 29th, then which one way streets will get us there the fastest with a shot at hitting the parking lot the first time out. See, in Billings? The parking lots are one-way along with the streets, Ikidyounot.

After seven, count them people, s-e-v-e-n failed attempts to getintheparkinglottherightway ...we landed a spot on the curb. With a meter. And zero.no space to parallel park correctly. Now, I drive a mid-size SUV and have the parallel parking skills of any good driver raised in Los Angeles (translation - I don't parallel park).

Then, John had to discuss (noticed I didn't say "we" had to discuss) whether I was really correctly parked at all. Frankly, it was take to spot or throw the birth cert out the window and hope the magic social security fairy delivered it to the right person.

We fed the meter (10 cents for 18 minutes- I mean, how long can this take?)

Now, before I proceed let me say I am a world-savvy traveler. Because of various things I've done, including the line of work I have been in, I have traveled excessively through both domestic and international airport terminals- even since 9/11. I know how to fit everything, including shoes, briefcase and laptop in one container, feed it through, get me in and out through security without breaking a sweat. I laugh at those who stand in line staring blankly at the rules of security, when they first realize they have to remove shoes and jackets- and realize they didn't shave under their arms, have on a tank top and holey socks. Yep. Priceless. But, I digress.

We walk in the door. Of the Federal Building. In Billings, people. Billings, MT.

I throw down everything to the x-ray tote and fly through the metal detector, scoop up my sunglasses and keys from the x-ray as it sails through and head for the Social Security door in front of me.

"Ma'am".

"Ma'am?"

"MA'AM!!" (click)

"K-E-L-L-I!!!!!"

Clueless, I flip around and see the guard staring me down, with one hand on his hip placed on his gun. The "click" I heard, faintly in my brain? That little snap that holsters that fine piece of gun-ness.

Oops.

"Ma'am, you need to sign in please".

Oops. Again.

Never thought the guy at the desk had a purpose.

After asking to see my photo ID, I turned about 14 more shades of red, cause I didn't think to bring my wallet in with me. So, I was escorted to the security section to wait for John. Hmpf.

After seeing how long the line was, I was sent out to get my ID and feed the meter some more.

This time through, the metal detector goes off. Huh?

Nothing changed- and the only thing I can think that it's the dialysis catheter. The one that is, well, not placed for human viewing.

"Anything metal on you?"

"Well, I have a dialysis catheter".

Silence.

"And, can you show it to me?"

"Well, it's ...."

"Just point- I'll scan you".

And I'm through.

And other than that, it was uneventful - except for the 65 year old who almost clocked John. See, he thought we were #2 and we were #4. And he tried to go to the window in front of her. Yowsa!

As we walked out, John mutters to the guard (out of hearing) "You've been blogged". I luvs that man!

After a few more unexciting stops, we headed to the salon to get John a haircut. Since we had a few things to do in the area, I dropped him off and kept going. Well, I mean, I came back and all. I didn't, you know - leave town.

When I got back to the salon, I grabbed one of the only open seats in the waiting area- next to the door. And with one empty seat between myslef and anotehr older lady. Wait, she was old, I am not. Not "anotehr" older lady, like I'm old.

No one asked me if I needed help, and for some rweason the lady next to the empty chair got leary. She asked me "Are you wating for a haircut" three different times. I wasn't I contiunually reassured her, John was- although we had not spoken when I come in- him being fully engrossed in the latest Road and Track review of something expensive. Yes, that is why he gets his hair cut there. Road and Track in the waiting room.

SO for some reason, my presence set her on edge. She casually reached over and got her purse, then put it in her lap. Asked me again- maybe I need a haircut? She even tried to get the attnetion of the receptionist.

It would be wrong of me to not say, out loud, that I Was enjoying every minute of it. People cna be fascinating at times= and for the life of me, I cna't figure out what made me look so meancing.

She got called in, and John hopped up and sat next to me. I told him, and we both got a nice chuckle out it.

When she left, I did make it a point to say "goodbye" and "have a wonderful afternoon". I mean, really- we need to be polite.

Somehow, we managed to get home without arrest or high-speed chase.

Just another day in the life o'Bonnie and her man Clyde.