Corkscrew

"M'am, do you have a corkscrew in your bag?" inquired the security officer politely. The staff at the airport were re-circulating my bag through x-ray in disbelief.

We were on our way to Boracay and, of course, it just makes sense to be prepared.

Unfortunately, the offending corkscrew had slipped behind something in my clear makeup bag, and I didn't notice it or I would have checked it.

"Yes," I sighed, and retrieved it, handing it over.

Fed launched into a rapid an impassioned verbal explanation, the gist of which the security officer translated as, "Ah, Rotarians. There will be lots of drinking."

Smiling, he returned it to me.

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