[Lady Justice 03] - Lady Justice Gets Lei'd Page 9

  Anything was tolerable in the short term, but how was I going to feel after a month of waiting for Maggie to conclude her extended throne duties?

  The professor’s words kept playing over in my mind: “Love is blind, but marriage is a real eye-opener.”

  I had never been married or even lived with another woman, but I was sixty-seven years old, and I hadn’t just fallen off of the turnip truck.

  Jokes such as, “My wife and I were happy—then we got married,” abound.

  Unfortunately, the humor is founded in reality. I personally know of couples that blissfully dated for years but couldn’t make the marriage work.

  Sometimes I wonder about the old saying, “Be careful what you wish for. You might just get it.”

  Sometimes things that look so good on the surface aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

  Maggie and I love to watch American Idol. We were thrilled when we learned that the summer tour would have a stop in St. Louis. We bought tickets, booked a hotel, and drove across the state anxiously anticipating an evening enjoying the music of our favorite Idols.

  Nothing could have been further from the truth.

  We had purchased good seats, but that turned out to be a waste of money because no one sat. The sell-out crowd stood from the first note to the very last. Of course, they couldn’t just stand. They had to scream and wave their arms as well. I came to hear Katharine McPhee, but all I could hear was the crazy woman behind me. The final indignity came when the fat kid sitting next to me dropped his cotton candy in my lap.

  I didn’t want my marriage to turn into my Idol experience.

  Also, having learned that it is usually prudent to discuss such weighty matters with your partner, I broached the subject with Maggie.

  Understandably, she had been concerned as well. But once again fate intervened in our lives and offered a solution to our problem.

  Mrs. Nugent, who had lived in 1B for years, decided to join Mrs. Basset, who had recently vacated 1A, in the assisted living center.

  With a little arm-twisting, I convinced Jerry to move from 3B to 1B, thus leaving the whole third floor available for my new bride and me.

  I contacted a remodeling contractor who promised to convert the two two-bedroom apartments into a spacious three-bedroom, two-bath with an office during the three weeks we were to be away.

  Problem solved.

  Finally, after days of agonizing over airline schedules, hotel reservations, and car rentals, it was time to go.

  Vince had the only vehicle big enough to haul all four of us and our luggage, and he volunteered to take us to the airport. Maggie had spent the night so that she, Willie, and I could be picked up at my apartment. We heard the toot from his horn, grabbed our bags, and headed downstairs.

  Knowing my friends as I do, I should have expected what was awaiting us on the front porch, but it took us totally by surprise.

  Dad, Bernice, Jerry, and the professor had set up a card table with a small cake and champagne.

  Dad spoke first. “We may not be able to be at the big shindig, but we sure as hell aren’t going to let you get away without a proper send-off.”

  With that, he popped the cork and poured the bubbly.

  He raised his glass. “A toast to my son and his lovely bride. First, let me say how proud I am to have a son like you. I wasn’t a good dad, and I know it. You probably turned out better than if I was around. I weren’t a good husband, neither, so I hope you learned from my mistakes and take good care of this special lady.”

  After his brief lapse into morality, Dad reverted to his usual self. “At least I didn’t name you Sue,” he said. He proceeded to tie tin cans to Vince’s back bumper and placed a “Getting Hitched” sign in the back window.

  Then came the airport jokes.

  The professor blessed us with the Confucius classic, “Man who fly upside down have big crack up.”

  Jerry, not to be outdone, droned, “A vulture was boarding an airplane with two dead raccoons. He was stopped at the gangway by a flight attendant. ‘I’m sorry, sir; only one carrion per passenger.’”

  Once the toasting, joking, hugging, and crying were dispensed with, we stowed the bags and headed to the Three Trails to pick up Mary.

  As expected, she was waiting for us on the porch with—yikes!—four huge suitcases.

  “Mary! What’s all of this?”

  “It’s my stuff. We’re gonna be gone for three weeks, and I gotta have my stuff.”

  She had more than the rest of us put together.

  “One bag, Mary. That’s it.”

  “Hell, I can’t get my underwear in just one bag.”

  I looked at Maggie. “This is your department. I don’t know about women’s things, but we’ve gotta have a shakedown.”

  Maggie and Mary took the bags inside, and after a prolonged struggle peppered with language that would have made a sailor blush, they emerged with one suitcase that probably weighed eighty pounds. I decided at that point to utilize the curbside check-in. The skycaps aren’t as fussy about weight if the tip is big enough.

  Willie had been unusually quiet, and I noticed on the forty-five-minute drive to the airport that he sat rigid, fists clenched, staring straight ahead. Instead of enjoying the trip to a tropical paradise, he was experiencing what I would imagine a convict would feel on his way to the gas chamber.

  We arrived at the airport, and after a bit of wrangling with the skycap and a huge tip, we made our way to the gate.

  Naturally, the line extended down the hallway.

  I took this opportunity to educate our novice flyers on the security procedures instituted after 9/11.

  “You means I got to undress befo’ de let me on de plane?” Willie said.

  “Well, not everything, just your belt and shoes and anything metal in your pockets.”

  Maggie and I went first to show Willie and Mary how it was done.

  No problems.

  Willie was next, and I heard him mutter, “Dis is worse dan when I went to visit Louie de Lip in county lockup.”

  Three down, and one to go.

  Mary placed her enormous purse on the conveyor and stepped through the metal detector.

  Brring! The detector lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “Ma’am, would you step over here please?”

  Mary followed the slender TSA matron to a small cubicle. “Please stand on those footprints and raise your arms.”

  So far so good. Mary hadn’t threatened anyone yet.

  The TSA gal grabbed a wand and started running it over Mary’s body. No problem until she put the thing between Mary’s legs.

  “Hey, girlfriend. You making a porno movie or something? Hey! Get that thing out of my—”

  “Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Walt, this skanky bitch is poking my doodah with that dildo!”

  “It’s okay, Mary. She’s just doing her job.”

  The TSA gal ran the wand up Mary’s torso. The wand came to life as it passed over Mary’s chesticles.

  “Ma’am, do you have anything metal on your body?”

  She laid the wand down and started feeling around

  Mary’s protruding breasts.

  “Walt! Now she’s feeling me up.” Then she addressed the TSA matron. “Of course I got on something metal. You don’t think these babies perk out like that on their own, do you? You’re feeling the wires in my push-up bra.”

  Finally satisfied that Mary wasn’t a threat to national security, she directed her to the conveyor belt.

  A TSA guy pointed to a leather object that could have doubled as a duffel bag. “Is this your purse, ma’am?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “We’re going to have to take a look inside.”

  Mary looked at me, and I just shrugged my shoulders.

  The poor inspector started unloading Mary’s purse.

  I doubt that Fibber McGee’s closet held as much crap.

  He held up a big bottle of Jergen’s lotion. “So
rry,

  ma’am, you can’t take this on the plane.”

  “But I have dry skin. Do you want me to itch all the way to Hawaii?”

  Then he held up a metal flask. “What’s in here, ma’am?”

  “That’s my medicine.”

  “What is it for?”

  “It keeps me calm.”

  He unscrewed the lid and took a sniff. “Smells a lot like vodka.”

  “Yeah, but it sure keeps me calm.”

  He just looked at Mary and shook his head. By the time he was finished, Mary’s purse didn’t weigh as much.

  It was still about forty-five minutes before boarding, so we found seats and busied ourselves reading, all except Willie who stared transfixed at the planes landing and taking off. I wondered if it was any comfort that none of them had crashed so far.

  My attention was diverted from my reading by the emergence of another security guy being led by a huge German shepherd on a leash.

  The dog went from bag to bag sniffing each one for explosives or drugs or other contraband. He was totally focused on the carry-on bags and seemed oblivious to the people around him until he came to me. After sniffing my bag, he poked his big nose between my legs and snorted.

  What is it with big dogs and my crotch?

  Finally, it was time to board.

  The desk girl started barking boarding orders, and we dutifully queued up in our designated lines. Just as we were about to surrender our boarding passes, another TSA guy approached me.

  “Sir, has anyone put anything in your luggage without your knowledge?”

  I just stood there for a minute thinking about his question.

  “If it was without my knowledge, how would I know?”

  He was still thinking that one over as I backed slowly away and boarded my flight.

  I had booked the seats with Maggie and me sitting across the aisle from Willie and Mary.

  I whispered to Maggie, “Maybe I should sit with Willie this first time. He’s kind of freaked out.”

  She agreed, and we swapped seats.

  The huge jet engines roared to life, and the flight attendants warned us of all the terrible things that could happen. The plane backed away from the jet way and began to taxi down the runway. There was a brief pause, and the plane shuddered as the pilot goosed the engines for takeoff.

  I had briefed Willie about the barf bag, and he clutched it tightly in his hand.

  The big jet sprang forward and picked up speed as it raced down the runway.

  I looked at Willie. If there is such a thing as a black man being white as a ghost, he was it. His eyes were as big as saucers, and just as the plane lifted off the ground, he grabbed my arm and squeezed. It was all I could do not to scream. I was sure it would leave a mark.

  Finally, the plane leveled off, and Willie released the death grip on my arm.

  Presently, the captain spoke over the intercom. “We have reached our cruising altitude of thirty-two thousand feet. It should be a smooth ride to Dallas. The temperature in Dallas is seventy-nine degrees with partly sunny skies. Enjoy your flight.”

  Willie whispered in my ear, “How much is thirty- two thousand feet?”

  “That’s about six miles.”

  “Up in de air?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Willie just closed his eyes, and I think he was muttering a prayer.

  The flight attendant announced that beverages were to be served. When the cart reached Mary’s aisle, she ordered a diet coke. The attendant was about to move on when Mary asked, “What about nuts? Don’t I get a bag of nuts?”

  “No, ma’am, we don’t serve nuts anymore.”

  “Okay then, how about some pretzels?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. Kansas City to Dallas is a short flight, and we only serve beverages.”

  “Well damn!”

  Yes, Mary, flying ain’t what it used to be.

  About a half hour into our flight, Mary leaned over the aisle. “Walt, which way to the can?”

  I pointed the way, and Mary shuffled down the aisle.

  About ten minutes passed, and I heard a loud buzzer at the rear of the plane. A man jumped from his seat and headed toward the lavatory. I looked back just in time to see Mary backed up against the wall with the man in her face.

  This couldn’t be good.

  I unbuckled and made my way back just in time to hear Mary declare, “I was NOT smoking.”

  I tapped the man on the shoulder, and Air Marshal

  Grant turned to face me.

  “You again!” He looked at Mary. “I suppose this is one of yours.”

  “Yes, Mary is with me. What in the world did she do?”

  “She set off the smoke detectors in the lavatory. I thought the flight attendant made it clear that this is a nonsmoking flight.”

  “I already told you I don’t smoke.”

  “Then what set off the smoke detectors?”

  Mary looked sheepishly around. Of course every eye on the plane was on her.

  “It’s kind of personal.”

  “Please elaborate,” Grant said.

  “Well, if you must know, I took a dump. When I was done, it was awful ripe in there, so I just lit a match, you know, to get rid of the smell. I knew there was people waiting to come in after me. It was the polite thing to do.”

  Grant just rolled his eyes.

  “Here,” he said. “She’s all yours. Now you owe me two.”

  I thanked him, and as I herded Mary down the aisle, I heard her mutter, “He probably thinks his shit don’t stink.”

  Three weeks to go and this is just the first day. What have I done?

  We had an hour layover in Dallas before boarding our flight to Honolulu. We grabbed a bite to eat and bought sandwiches and chips to eat on the flight.

  We were waiting at the gate when Willie tugged on my arm.

  “Mr. Walt, is all dees people going on de same plane as us?”

  “Yes, I would say so.”

  “Cool.”

  Without hesitation, he made his way across the room and sat down by a lovely brown-skinned lady in her mid-fifties.

  I had never really seen Willie in action. Stories of his legendary exploits were all secondhand but, as I soon learned, were not exaggerated.

  I wished that I were close enough to hear because whatever he said caused the woman’s face to light up, and soon the two were thoroughly engrossed in conversation. They talked until boarding was announced. He patted her arm, and as he grabbed his carry-on, he gave me a wink.

  I noted that Willie’s newfound friend was seated a few rows back from us, and as he moved down the aisle, I noticed a swagger that was certainly not present on the first leg of our flight. He gave her a big grin as he stowed his carry-on.

  Willie, the cowardly flyer, had turned into Mr. Cool Dude, the veteran traveler.

  Then I remembered a scene from the movie 48 Hours where Eddie Murphy says to Nick Nolte, “Lack of nookie make you brave, man!”

  Sometimes life imitates art.

  It was a long six-and-a-half-hour flight from Dallas to Honolulu.

  I noticed that there were several Hawaiians on the plane, which was not surprising. Buddy Kalakoa had told me that there were more Hawaiians living on the mainland than in the islands. Housing prices had risen to such heights that only the wealthy from the mainland, Canada, and Asia could afford to buy.

  It was about three hours into the flight. The beverage cart had made its rounds, overpriced sandwiches had been sold, and the in-flight movie was playing on the screen.

  Everyone had zoned out in his or her own way. Some were reading; others were sleeping or watching the movie.

  Willie excused himself and headed to the lavatory at the rear of the aircraft. Shortly after, his lady friend headed in the same direction.

  Oh boy!

  It doesn’t take a guy that long to take a leak, so when Willie didn’t return right away, I read between the lines.

  I heard the lavator
y door close and saw the woman return to her seat. Willie discreetly stayed behind.

  About that time, a large Hawaiian guy stood and made his way forward into the first class section. I knew this was a no-no and wondered what the guy was up to.

  I soon found out.

  I heard a scuffle and a scream, and he emerged back into the coach section with a flight attendant in his grip. The sharp end of a ballpoint pen was pressed against the carotid artery in her neck.

  “No one move,” he ordered, “or she will die.”

  He was backing down the aisle, and I saw Grant moving toward him from the first class section.

  “Don’t come any closer.”

  “Look, I’m a federal air marshal,” Grant said. “Don’t hurt anyone. What is it that you want?”

  “You can contact the authorities on the mainland?”

  “Yes.”

  “Four of my brothers were arrested in Kansas City.

  They are to be released or this woman will die.”

  Unbelievable! What were the chances that after all these weeks, we would book our flight on the same plane as the guys who wanted to roast us?

  “You know we can’t negotiate with terrorists.”

  “Terrorist! Is that what you called Washington and

  Jefferson when they fought to free the colonies from

  England? No! You called them patriots. I am a patriot, and I fight to free my people.”

  A Hawaiian man seated a few rows away spoke, “Bruddah, this is not the way to go. You are not helping our people. You are hurting our cause.”

  “Auwe, you say that because you have sold out to the haoles. We have waited for two hundred years for that which is rightfully ours to be returned. It is time for action.”

  “Hurting innocent people will not further our cause.”

  “In any revolution, there are those who will die. Sacrifices must be made. The old must be pruned away before the new can grow. Now go call the authorities. I have turned on my cell phone. When I receive a call from my brothers that they are safe, I will release the woman. Then you may do with me what you will.”

  He started backing toward the rear of the aircraft.

  I had noticed that Willie had just started to return to his seat when the trouble started. He had ducked back into the lavatory and pulled the door closed.