Mistletoe At The Airport
It was slightly before Christmas. The trip went reasonably well,
and he was ready to go back. The airport on the other end had turned
a tacky red and green, and loudspeakers blared annoying elevator
renditions of cherished Christmas carols.
Being someone who took Christmas very seriously, and being slightly
tired, he was not in a particularly good mood.
Going to check in his luggage (which, for some reason, had become one
suitcase with entirely new clothes), he saw hanging mistletoe. Not
real mistletoe, but very cheap plastic with red paint on some of the
rounder parts and green paint on some of the flatter and pointier
parts, that could be taken for mistletoe only in a very Picasso sort
of way.
With a considerable degree of irritation and nowhere else to vent it,
he said to the attendant,
"Even if I were not married, I would not want to kiss you under such a
ghastly mockery of mistletoe."
"Sir, look more closely at where the mistletoe is."
(pause)
"Ok, I see that it's above the luggage scale, which is the place you'd
have to step forward for a kiss."
"That's not why it's there."
(pause)
"Ok, I give up. Why is it there?"
"It's there so you can kiss your luggage goodbye."
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