Tag Archives: Embarrassing

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—”

“Larry?”

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.”

“Okay.”

“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.

Embarrassment Factor: 9.2

Over the last few weeks I’ve been climbing down the branches of The Crazie Family Tree. Big Sister and Big Brother stories have been shared and I should be next in line.

I'm not ONE, I'm TEN

I’m not ONE, I’m TEN

Sibling Position #3

At Christmas Eve, I told my family I planned to skip over myself and on to First Little Brother.

“NOT FAIR!” Crazie Family shouted. “You have to share an embarrassing story about yourself.”

“Umm, I thought that’s what I did every week,” I said.

“Tell the one about running away,” Big Sister said.

“Already did it.”

“Write about the time you got your elbows stuck in Grandmother’s chair,” Big Brother insisted.

“Wrote it.”

“How about the time we euthanized a mouse?” First Little Brother asked.

“Done and done.”

Over the next hour they tried to come up with a story about my childhood that I haven’t yet told, and would sufficiently embarrass me.

“Remember how she was too short to reach both pedals of a bike?” My Aunt said.

“Oh, yeah,” Big Brother said. “Dad put a step stool on the side of a hill so she could get a rolling start. Then she’d push the right pedal down until she couldn’t reach, then the left pedal would be high enough. She had to ram into the side of the barn to stop.”

“Ha, ha,” Second Little Brother laughed. “She walked around all summer with a big goose egg on her forehead.”

“That’s a good one.” I laughed along with them and then stared at my husband, sending the ESP message not to tell the story about my latest shopping experience.

He was a good husband and did not share, but in the spirit of fairness and since its now obvious to me that no one from my family reads my posts anyway, here it is.

I was in the dressing room of a nice clothing store trying to find something to fit my latest personality switch. Halfway through a dozen outfits, a massive hot flash struck me.

Normally, before I leave a dressing room, my OCD requires that I return everything to its proper hanger and hand the items to the clerk. Not this day. With sweat running into my eyes, I left the clothes in a pile on the floor, grabbed my coat and hurried out the door to stand on the sidewalk in the freezing air. The hot flash now gone and my teeth chattering, I quickly buttoned up my down coat and headed off to meet my friend for lunch.

Climbing into the booth, I removed my coat and immediately sensed something was wrong. Perhaps it was the questioning look on my friend’s face, then again it could have been the goose bumps breaking out on my arms.

It seems, in my hurry to exit the dressing room, I left my shirt in the pile of clothing on the floor.

To ease the embarrassment factor on this story, I will tell you that, thanks to my love of all things Spanx, I was sporting one of their industrial strength tank tops.

But, then to crank the embarrassment back up, I had to return to the nice clothing store and, in front of everyone waiting to pay, explain that I’d forgotten to put my shirt on before I left the store. Without a word, the clerk turned around and using the two-finger “I’m holding something disgusting” method, handed me a small bag containing my blouse.

See what you’ve done, Crazie Family? As I write this, I’m suffering another hot flash…from embarrassment. Happy now?