Kissing at the Airport
It was the middle of the holiday travel season. The trip had gone
reasonably well, and he was ready to go back. The airport on the
other hand had turned a tacky red and green, and loudspeakers blared
annoying elevator renditions of cherished Christmas carols.
Being someone who took Christmas very seriously, and being slightly
tired, he was not in a particularly good mood.
Going to check in his luggage (which, for some reason, had become
one suitcase with entirely new clothes), he saw hanging mistletoe.
Not real mistletoe, but very cheap plastic with red paint on some of
the rounder parts and green paint on some of the flatter and
"pointier" parts, that could be taken for mistletoe only
in a very Picasso sort of way.
With a considerable degree of irritation and nowhere else to vent
it, he said to the attendant, "Even if I were not married, I
would not want to kiss you under such a ghastly mockery of
mistletoe."
"Sir, look more closely at where the mistletoe is."
(pause)
"Ok, I see that it's above the luggage scale, which is the
place you'd have to step forward for a kiss."
"That's not why it's there."
(pause)
"Ok, I give up. Why is it there?"
"It's there so you can kiss your luggage goodbye."
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