Terminal Time: The Boy and the Bear


I landed in JFK and almost got arrested when I laughed at the immigration form that asked me if I was a member of the Nazi party or had been involved in war crimes, terrorism or drug smuggling.

Because, I totally would tick yes if I had been any of the above.

Imagine how much easier it would be if every drug smuggler just ticked the box?

After negotiating that tricky piece of diplomacy, I had six hours of lay over to deal with and I needed to wee.

Then I discovered that a bathroom is a room with a bath in it. It is not the loo.

The loo is a restroom. I assume because you go in there to take a quick power nap?

Eventually, I made it to the stall, closed the door and sat down.

Then I discovered the auto-flush sensor. Every time I moved a muscle the bloody thing would flush, making me jump out of my skin. And yes. Scream. I screamed.

This layover en route to the city by the bay, was not going well, I found the New York accent even more incomprehensible than a Glaswegian brogue. So, I settled for nodding my head a lot and smiling like a loon.

I succumbed to jet lag and economy class exhaustion and lay my head down on a disused luggage carousel.

A small boy played happily next to me and I sank into slumber.

Many hours later I unstuck my eyes and peered blearily around.

Tucked up under my chin was a teddy bear.

A gorgeous, well-loved, cuddly teddy bear.

I looked around in some confusion.

Apparently, the small boy was concerned that I would have nightmares if I didn’t have a teddy bear to protect me so far from home, so he’d lent me his.

It was one of those epiphany moments.

A small boy with whom I’d shared no more than a smile parted with his beloved bear to make sure I could sleep.

I just knew I was going to love America.


Need inspiration?

Visit the Daily Post. I know I took some liberties with the prompt. It’s more of a memory, but it it was my first memory of America, so its a special one for me. It helped me get over the whole auto flushing toilet and subsequent laughter of strangers thing.

Love the bears in the photo?

Visit Taunina and get your own. They are hand made and embroidered, one of a kind pieces that stand up to a lot of love.

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I write because I have to. It is a compulsion. I do it to vent, to laugh and to remember. I blog because it has been so long since I had to write with a pen that my hand would go into cramp if I tried to write a journal.

5 thoughts on “Terminal Time: The Boy and the Bear

  1. I believe this. One of the myriad part time jobs I had was doing surveys from door to door. It was a poor area with no ‘rest rooms’, i.e. a tea room, so the lady at the corner cafe offered to make me tea and sat me down on a plastic chair under a tree on the pavement. A boy from one of the houses came by and gave me a sweet. I could’ve stayed there the whole day.

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