“I use it as a foot powder and it’s half empty,” he explained, the TSA inspector waving his 8-oz Angel of Mine Cornstarch Baby Powder at him.

Ignoring him, she continued inspecting his carry-on luggage, consulting someone nearby on each step she took. It didn’t take too long to realize that she was undergoing training. Considering the number of test strips she used, it seemed as if she had tested his Baby Powder for all the narcotics known to junkies.

Having detected none, she zipped close his luggage and gave it to him without an eye contact.

“Thank you,” he said as he met up with his friend and his friend’s sister in the main airline hallway. “My luggage is narcotics-free. Yippee!”

“My inspector was rude!” his friend complained. “I was going to ask him whether he had covid!” she added.

“Nah, ignore him! We are going to have a wonderful vacation and no one, especially these inspectors, will ruin it for us!”

They boarded a flight to Niagara Falls, New York, one Sunday night for a 4-night visit to his friend’s older sister. Without any hesitation, all three wiped their seats and anything within arm’s reach with alcohol wipes left on the seats by the airline. Their face shields and glasses clouded up as they breathe through their N95 masks. Strict instructions he gave on their way to O’Hare Airport were followed to a tee.

The ladies fell asleep at liftoff. It was much to his envy since no amount of liquor or sleeping aids would knock him out, his ears cocking for any minute change in the engine sound.

Had it not been for the aisle separating his seat from theirs, he would have awakened them during the period of turbulence.

“Why would I be the only one to be terrified?” he mused. However, he was comforted knowing that the flight was short and that the seat to his left was empty, giving him extra elbow and leg room.

The Buffalo Niagara International Airport was quiet and desolate. The restaurants and stores were closed or empty, sad and glaring consequence of the pandemic. After the obligatory picture-taking at the “Welcome to Buffalo” sign, they submitted their completed New York Contact Tracing Forms before hailing a shuttle bus to the sister’s house.

The driver entertained them with his interesting fares, generating laughter in the bus. His hilarity stopped when a text flashed on his iPhone.

“Hey, neighbor. You left your garage door open. I can disconnect it and just manually close it if that’s ok,” the text said.

“OMG! Please disconnect it. I am sorry to bother you. Really appreciate it,” he texted back, wasting no seconds.

“No worries, all good,” his neighbor responded, 600 miles from his current whereabouts.

In an instant, he became both troubled and amused. He shared the texts with the sisters and the driver, offering a possible explanation for neglecting to close the garage door. He also confessed that he didn’t feel that guilty imposing on his neighbor, stressing that he gave him freshly-baked muffins the morning of their departure.

The stay at the sister’s house was full of activities – early morning walks, playing mahjong, chasing Canadian geese and seagulls, breakfasts at Tim Hortons, teaching the sister on the use of her laptop, killing a small tree by sawing the top off and pouring bleach on the stump for good measure per the sister’s instructions, 3-mile hike to rent a car which turned out to be a Silverado pickup truck since no compact car was available, tracing the flow of the Niagara Falls on the U.S. side, enjoying a bucket of Buffalo Wings at the Anchor Bar, and cooking whatever was in the refrigerator and cupboard. It was a flurry of to-do’s which kept them occupied and entertained.

The same amusing shuttle bus driver picked them up for their return flight. There was no issue with the TSA inspection at the airport. No one in hazmat suit came to stop them since someone from New York State Contact Tracing Program contacted him on day one about quarantining himself, followed by the daily calls to check for symptoms.

There were empty seats on the plane, so he moved to a different row in front of his friends who, as expected, were already fast asleep. The flight being smooth, the temptation to wake them up never came to mind.

They were picked up at the O’Hare airport by his friend’s designated driver. His concern about the garage occupied his mind, continuing to be contemplative in the back seat as the driver’s SUV slowed into his friend’s driveway.

“You want to join us for dinner?” his friend asked.

“No, thanks. I just want to go home and rest,” he replied, proceeding to ease his own car out of his friend’s garage.

His stomach grumbled midway to his house, making him stop at his favorite Burger King joint. He ordered a Whopper, large French fries, and medium coke – no ice. He wondered why he ordered large fries after seeing lots of them in the bag. Nevertheless, he snarfed them all up, the coke quenching his thirst.

His garage door looked fine as he inched his car into his driveway. Feeling relieved that his house was untouched, he went straight to the garage.

Since the pulling back on the emergency cord failed to move the lever to reengage the door opener, he dragged his 8-foot ladder right under it and pushed the lever up manually. He then walked to the utility room to turn on the remote. The door started to roll up.

“Creak! Creak!” came the noise, followed by, “Pop! Pop!”

The top of the ladder was getting in the way of the right side of the door as it rolled horizontally!

Consequently:
• The 1st and 2nd rollers popped out of the track!
• The insulated side of the door got dented as it skidded on top of the ladder!
• The neighborhood dog started to bark!

Managing to turn off the remote to stop additional damage, he then stared at the sight, terror-stricken.

“How the hell am I going to fix this?” he moaned, the continued barking somehow adding drama to the situation.

He thought of asking his contractor-neighbor to fix it, but nixed the idea. It would cost money and he, being the son of an electrician/mechanic, felt he had the knowhow. The socket wrench kit which he thought was of no use when he bought it years ago came in handy. With little muscle power, he managed to put everything back.

Still standing on the ladder which by now was at a safe distance, he turned on the remote. The door went up and down as if nothing happened to it.

He stepped down the ladder with a big smile until the last rung.

He missed it! He fell back several feet onto the cement floor! He landed on his butt, his left hand trying to soften the fall!

“What are we going to do with you?” You are not that young anymore,” he groaned, shaking his head as he struggled to get up.

While brushing the dirt off the back of his shorts, he looked at the ladder with scorn.

“Bad Boy!” he scolded, wiggling his finger at the ladder as he approached it.

Feeling relieved and contented, he went inside the house.

As he was about to remove his hooded zipper sweatshirt, his Apple Watch sent out an audible alert and the concomitant tapping on his wrist.

“It looks like you’ve taken a hard fall,” was displayed on his watch.

“Are you telling me that just NOW?” he yelled at the watch, at the same time tapping the “I’m OK” display on it to avoid automatic call for emergency services.

He was so dismayed since the Fall Alert got triggered minutes later instead of immediately.

He wondered whether it was too late to return his Apple Watch as he was downing his Whopper with a glass of Riesling wine.