Combat Boots vs Nine West

I arrived to my hotel in Boston around supper time last night. My colleagues and I had a great time roaming the city and chatting. Superb group of people. And I have been eating up the view from my room.

Spectacular.

Anyhoo, one of the funniest thangs happened to me in the airport on the way here.

And I totally wanted to take photos, but you know how they are in those airport security checks points and all. And let me tell you - ALL eyes were on me. And I would not have been able to blog from jail - Hey, I wonder if I could have requested one blog post in exchange for my phone call? I'm just sayin.

Anyhoo, I arrive at the airport with my Brighton bag and Nine West Heels and headed my way to the security check point.

There were three military people in front of me. Two gentleman are in their camo uniforms (BDUs) and the other is in civilian cloths (jeans and tshirt). And then there is me. In Ann Taylor and Girgiou.

Anyhoo -- the two uniformed military boys get to the the lee-tell security man who checks your ticket and ID and he asks them to stand off to the side. Then the civilian dressed military man goes through and the same, they have him stand off to the side.

Then, it is my turn. In which I haphazardly pull out my picture ID cause I am doing real real real important stuff -- like Twittering - on my blackberry. You understand, right?

Then he looks at me and says, "Thank you ma'am, please wait over here."

And I obediently join the trio of military men.

Then I hear this.....

"Clll, Schrr, Eeeee. My I have your attention please. Ladies and Gentleman we have four military personnel traveling back home with us today. Please join me in thanking them and allowing them access to the front of the line."

Insert clapping. Including me.

Insert me looking around.

Insert me realizing I AM ONE OF THE FOUR.

Insert me noticing I had my DEPENDENT military ID out.

"Uhm, excuse me. Excuse me. Sir? Sir?"

Insert us being guided to the front of the line amidst cheers and hoops and hollers and handshakes.

"Uhm...sir? Sir? I am not active duty military. I have never set foot on foreign soil. I have never shot a gun. I am a lover, not a fighter."

He looks at me with a big smile and says, "Huh?"

I kid you not. These people clapped and shook our hands the entire time it took for us to scan our bags. And I cried, cause it was the sweetest thang ev-er. And my mascara ran. And I wondered if I should salute or drop and give them 20. I opted for crying.

Once through the security check-point the military boys were collecting their things and reassembling. I looked over at them and said,

"I don't know where the confusion came from. I think because I showed my DEPENDENT military ID, but I just wanted to let you guys know - I AM NOT IN THE MILITARY."

They shared glances with one another and then grinned.

The oldest one looked over at me and said,

"We know ma'am. We know."

And they turned and left.

WHAT? Well, I coulda been in the military. It would not have been that absurd, right? Ann Taylor goes with combat boots too, right?