So although my trip out west was amazing, my trip back to the Gnome Abode was not so much. After two days of misery and torture, I was JUST released from the shackles and chains of the TSA dungeon. I bet you didn’t even know there was a TSA dungeon at your local airport. Well I’m here to tell you that there is, I’ve seen it first hand, and it’s not a pretty sight.
During my time in Zion National Park, I encountered a wilderness gnome and quickly befriended him. He doesn’t speak Gnomish or English, so I’m not even sure what his name is. Apparently, he’s a crystal miner by trade and works in the depths of the Zion canyons. I wonder if that’s why his eyes are so red. Or maybe it’s just because he’s perpetually high. Until I learn to comprehend his grunts, I guess I’ll never know.
Anyway, I convinced him that he should visit the Gnome Abode and take a much needed vacation from his tiresome workdays. He’s pretty small, which makes it easy to squeeze through tight crevices and also into my travel satchel. I never suspected that the TSA agents in the airport security line would cause a ruckus over the joining of my new companion. Boy, was I wrong.
Fortunately, I had my Gnomeland passport safely tucked away and flashed it at the security agents upon the first sign of trouble.
I recently got it renewed so it accurately reflects my full name, Sheldon A. Rumplesphincter, date of birth 8/24/1683, place of birth Ingolstadt, Bavaria, and occupation travel writer/male stripper. Hey don’t judge, writing doesn’t pay all the bills!
The ass wad TSA agent rudely scoffed that there was no such thing as a Gnomeland passport that that security would arrive soon to escort me and my dirty friend out of the airport. Fortunately, I’m a hoarder by nature and had even kept the envelope that my passport was mailed to me in. The Gnome Passport Office is located in Canada so clearly, that American idiot must have forgotten there are other countries besides this one out there.
Those idiot agents were still not convinced that I was a legitimate traveler, let alone my nameless miner friend. Therefore, I had to pull out my A game and start name dropping. I whipped out business cards for professional and world renown gnome travelers, Sir Ced and Sir Tommy. I encourage aforementioned idiots to send them a quick email to verify my traveler status. Unfortunately, the Wi-fi in the airport was down so they had to call a technician out to fix the Interweb before they could email my references.
Somehow, it took two days for the Wi-fi to be back up and running at the airport and for the TSA agents to get a response back from Sir Ced and Sir Tommy vouching for my legitimacy. During these past two days, me and my new buddy were locked up in chains somewhere below the airport sewer system in a pitch black room with no pretzels, grog, or flight attendant service.
After a hearty groping session, we finally got home to The Gnome Abode and we are exhausted, cranky, and sober. An awful combination. More to come soon about my actual journey and the amazing time I had in Zion National Park and Vegas.
But for now, I just had to bitch and whine. Hope you don’t mind. Hey that’s a rhyme!
Signing off with a bottle of scotch and a pillow,
Sheldon The Gnome (and nameless creepy miner gnome from the desert who seems to be cuddling up next to me and I don’t know how I feel about it)
I’ve never been to Texas before, but I have the great pleasure of accompanying two lovely ladies to the deep south for a long weekend of Yee Haw’s and Giddy Up’s.
I’m hoping to come back with a southern accent and a tanned raw hide. Surely that’ll make Yankee lady gnomes will definitely swoon and god knows it’s, well, been awhile.
