Tag Archives: cell phone service

Crazie Larry Story – “I’m in a jail cell and…”

Last of the Big Kids is my younger brother, Larry. If you missed the other stories about our fall from the Crazie Tree, click here, here, and here.

Sibling position #4 – two years younger than me.

The One Who Smiles

The One Who Smiles

Two things you need to know about Larry.

1.) He always has a smile on his face.

2.) He never breaks a rule.

This story begins the Christmas after 9/11. I got a call from Larry shortly after I’d dropped him off at the airport.

“I’ve been arrested.” I could hear the laughter in his voice.

I chuckled. “Sure you have.”

“No, really!” By now he’s laughing so hard it was difficult to understand him. “I’m in a jail cell right now and in fact they’re ready to take my pho—”


No reply.

As I made a U-Turn in the middle of the six lane highway, I called my favorite attorney who just happens to be my husband, John. He called back to tell me, sure enough, Larry had been arrested — for trying to carry a large knife on the plane.  “Please tell me that didn’t happen.” Although he didn’t say it out loud I could hear “You’re family is Crazie.”

“OF COURSE IT DIDN’T HAPPEN!” I explained calmly.

John agreed to drive out to the airport to get it all straightened out.

I waited impatiently in the well-appointed lobby of the airport police station (not my first time in the lobby of a police station, but that’s another story). I knew for certain that my pacifist brother, who didn’t even like to use a letter opener, would not have been carrying a knife onto a plane.

When John arrived, the officer on duty took us to his desk and then brought Larry in from his jail cell. Larry’s smile was slightly lopsided, but still there. The officer asked him to tell us what happened.

“You know Shelly got me that wok I asked for, right?” he said.

“Um. Yes.” I replied

“Well, I decided not to check the box, I thought I’d just carry it on with me. You know, so it wouldn’t get squashed.”


“I put it on the conveyor belt and I waited on the other side for it to come out. Only it didn’t. I looked up at the agent who’d x-rayed it and he’d called over another agent. Then they called over this police officer. Sorry, what was your name again?”

“Officer Schmidt.”

“That’s right. So, Officer Schmidt and the other two agents are all pointing at the x-ray screen and then over at me.” He giggled.

“All of the sudden, I remembered that a set of knives was included with the wok. So I said ‘Oh, there are knives in there aren’t there?’ And then, everyone that was standing around me took a step back.” Larry paused to get his laughter under control. “Officer Schmidt asked me to move to the holding area where they pat you down and I told him it was just a mistake and that if he’d give me the box I’d check it with my suitcase. No big deal.” He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

Husband turned to me with that “Are you kidding me?” look on his face.

“Go on,” I said. “Then what happened.”

“Then, Officer Schmidt explained that it was against the law to carry a knife on the plane and asked me to turn around so he could cuff me.”

“He took it surprisingly well,” Officer Schmidt told us.

Larry said, “I was laughing so hard it was hard for you to put the cuffs on me, right?”

“That’s right.”

“But,” my husband asked. “Why were you laughing?”

“All I could think,” Larry said. “Was, what a great family story this was going to be.”

After several hours of discussion, the police finally agreed to let Larry go, promising him a stiff fine. We drove him back over to the terminal to see if there was any chance he could get on a later flight.

Evidently we looked bedraggled enough that the woman behind the ticket counter felt sorry for us.

“Let’s see what I can do.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard and we stood listening to the clickity-clack, waiting for the magic to happen. “Now, tell me the reason you missed your plane and,” here she leaned across the counter and winked at us. “Make it good.”

I opened my mouth to say he was an important musical conductor and had to get back to Broadway to his next performance but before I could utter a word my ‘never break a rule’ brother Larry said, “I tried to carry a knife onto the plane.”

It was another week before we could find a flight that would take him.

Tick*Nick*Al Difficulties

A year ago I would not have been able to tell you the difference between a Tweet and a Twat.  Actually, I still couldn’t tell you what a Twat is.  Oh dear, I just looked it up… so….anyway…..

My mom had a great saying about forgetting things when you travel.  “If I have my credit card and a tube of lipstick I can go anywhere.”  Which has been true for me for years.  I have now amended that to credit card, lipstick, and IPhone.

I’m in New York for a visit and just “knew” that at some point I’d whip out my IPhone at a funky coffee shop and dash off my blog.  Except I had a wifi breakdown.  I’m one of those people who know what my phone should be able to do, I just don’t know how to make it do it.  So, no blog on Sunday like I planned, sorry about that.

I’m having a wonderful time here but, really…what’s with all the walking people?  I get in my car to drive from one side of a parking lot to another, so watching my nephew and his wife bring four little girls from their home in Queens to Manhattan on the subway was, for me, like watching an astronaut walk on the moon.  I was mesmerized, but I certainly wouldn’t want to do it.

I’m sitting in the kitchen of my brother’s Manhattan apartment (don’t’ get excited, it’s the size of a postage stamp) where we’ll be leaving shortly so he can go to rehearsals for a show he’s working on.  I plan to shop at some sort of discount store called Daffy’s (love the name) and then we’re taking the subway to Brooklyn to watch another brother film an episode of Person of Interest.  After that, we’ll walk around the “hipster” part of town and have a late dinner.  I mean, late for a midwesterner.  The way I figure it, we’ll be eating dinner about the time I’d normally be falling into my deep REM sleep.

One day soon, I will figure out how to post to this blog from my IPhone, and then I’ll figure out how to Tweet and then I’ll figure out how to finish my novel and then I’ll be rich.  Or I’ll be a twat (I’m talking about the person who’s stupid definition, not the vulgar slang for a woman’s genitals kind of person)

Who’s Crazie Now?

I just got back from a week in the Rocky Mountains at a resort where, I swear, time has not changed in 50 years. My husband asked if they had a Wi-Fi Cafe nearby. Not only is there no wi-fi, there’s no cafe. There is certainly no cell phone service and the one ancient pay phone only worked a few hours every other day. Personally, I loved it.

I even got to spend some quality time with a few of the following residents of Crazie Town.

The Older Sister – who, I maintain, interpreted the following road sign even sillier than I did. “No Snowplowing Between 7pm-7am.” I decided it meant people shouldn’t be using their own snowplows during this time. My sister decided this meant that when you’re skiing you can’t use the snowplow move after 7pm. I believe I will rate our decisions as “Double Doh’s” since Older Brother explained it meant that during a snowstorm, the roads would not be plowed after 7pm.

The Husband (not an original resident, but has been around long enough to receive dual citizenship) – who gave new meaning to the expression “haste-makes-waste.” As we walked out to the picnic table with the rest of the meal, he was asked to add grapes to the salad before he brought it out. Many minutes later when no salad or husband arrived, I returned to the cabin to find him still in the kitchen. He was inspecting each and every grape on the vine, only removing the undamaged ones. He placed the perfect grape in the middle of a dinner plate where he carefully sliced it exactly in half, only then depositing it gently on top of the lettuce.  I have to admit, it was a delicious salad.

The Niece – who couldn’t quit giggling every time we said we were “Going to the Poudre.” The Poudre River runs through the area where we stayed. It is pronounced, by the locals, as “Poo-der” which is, evidently quite close to “Pooter” which is a word I won’t explain to you.

The Older Brother – who unsuccessfully tried to hide the fact that within minutes of wandering over to the “Pooter” river to inspect the velocity of the rushing waters, fell in. Was he hurt? Who knows. Our only concern was that thereafter, any bonehead move would be dubbed “Doing a Mike.”

The Nephew and his Wife – they’re newlyweds so, let’s just leave them out of this, okay? Well, maybe just one thing. Homemade pie? I know it’s not a competition but on my night to cook I made spaghetti with bottled sauce. On their night they made Juicy Lucys (look it up) and for dessert a homemade four-fruit pie. Four fruits? Really?

And what about the Mayor of Crazie Town? Well, let’s see. I packed two humongus suitcases – 49 pounds each – filled with every essential a Crazie person would need. I used my husband’s travel golf bag to bring two collapsable lawn chairs (in case there aren’t enough chairs at the resort), a set of sheets (I can’t very well sleep on theirs can I?) and two large furniture throws (who wants to spend a week in plaid couch hell?) In the other suitcase I packed hiking boots, several pairs of sneakers, sandals and my clothes, which included all the white t-shirt I own (and are now covered in every kind of stain known to man), a sketch pad, colored pencils and book titled Drawing for the Absolute Beginner (in case my writing career never takes off), and my laptop (which I never even opened.)

And we’ll end with the icing on the cake. because even though I packed my own travel coffee mug, once there I decided to purchase a dust covered “handcrafted” ceramic one for $20 (which I forgot to bring home).

Who’s crazie now? Huh?

P.S.  Do me a favor would you?  Share the Crazie with a friend.  Thanks!