She just kept looking at me, so I started talking. Talking fast. Rambling is probably more accurate.
I explained that I was going to Oregon to visit a friend who was born and raised in Indiana, just like me. I explained that I was going to surprise him with some Indiana sweet corn. That I was trying to give him a taste of home, I rambled.
“It’s just corn. I swear,” I said. “Can you take corn on a plane?”
She still just looked at me, and I was trying to decide in which direction I should run. I was mentally scoping out an exit strategy if this thing went south.
“Well, I’m thinking about confiscating it,” she said.
“Uh, well…” I started in but she interrupted with “’cause it looks really good. Any chance you brought enough to share?” she asked, jokingly.
All I could think was my friend better enjoy this stinking corn. The stress of its delivery shaved a good year off my life.
Misty Knisely, managing editor, can be reached at 574-732-5155 or via email at email@example.com.