The Bohemian Skirt

I knew the world was seeing a flash of white thighs and cellulite. Somehow in the gust of a whirlwind, my long gypsy-like skirt flew straight up and over my head. I tried to bat it down, but it stood stubbornly straight up like a corn stalk. It seemed the garment had a mind of its own. The more I struggled to keep it down, the higher it flew. (At least my face was covered and no one would know who owned those stocky dimpled legs.)

The skirt was my favorite attire. I adored the fabric. The colors displayed in the fabric were bright and varied. Dark rusts, velvet black, and fireman red circled around the turquoise satin. Golden metallic threads highlighted the colors like trees on an autumn day. The skirt’s bohemian qualities tickled my eccentric personality. That is, until the day of the whirlwind, because the skirt continued to behave badly.

Later the same day, I was attempting to go through security at McCarran International Airport. For some reason, I set off the metal detector—twice. The security personnel sent me to the “wand and pat down area”. The wand floated across the lower part of my body. "Beep, beep, beep," it warned. I was completely flummoxed. Why was I setting off these metal detectors?

After much wand waving, hand patting, and scrutinizing it was determined that the metal threads in my skirt were the cause of the security breach. What? My unruly skirt seemed intent on deliberately ruining my day. The security guards suggested I not wear the flagrant fabric again to the airport. I agreed whole-heartedly.

Honestly, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.