Solid Or Liquid


Don’t worry. Everything’s cool. They caught me in time.

As I went through the final airport check on my way to catch AC195, our brave boys in security blue turned their eagle eyes on my x-rayed belongings and instantly spotted the most dreadful threat to liberty and democracy ever to infiltrate a piece of carry-on baggage.


Tearing it free from its packaging and exposing it to dozens of watchful security cameras, the bag checker fingered his sidearm and gravely asked:

“What is this?”

Quite a poser. I knew liquids were banned from carry-ons, but surely this was a solid. I hesitate to call it food. I was pretty sure it was benign. Nasty but benign.

The jar of Vegemite began its journey in Australia where they’re still savage and backwards enough to eat this sort of thing. It was muled to Montreal by way of Hawaii. I was to take it the last step of the way, to answer the craving of a Vancouver-based Vegemite addict.

But it was not to be. The ban didn’t draw the line at liquids, but extended to pastes, oils, and any otherwise goopy substances that could be employed in a midair terrorist attack or, God forbid, a damn messy food fight that might spoil the finery of the valued executive-class passengers.

Alas, the long Vegemite journey was at an end, confiscated by our front line of defense in the war on terror that has cost so many of us our breakfast spreads, and left our toasts, our bagels, our English muffins barren, alone, and without hope.

When will the madness end, Osama, you bastard? When!?

The Vegemite was carefully disposed of in a bin, not unlike a trashcan. I can only assume it was properly dealt with later, escorted onto the tarmac, and summarily executed by firing squad.

At least that’s what I hope happened. I admit to a strong sense of relief as we took to the air and I watched the isle of Montreal fade into the distance. Who knows? That jar of Vegemite may be reaching critical mass as I write this.

Pray I don’t return to a smouldering crater that was once my home town.

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