Christmas spirit at the airport


It was a few days before Christmas and Mr Penning-Smith’s business trip had gone reasonably well.

Plastic Holly

The airport on the other hand 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, Mr Penning-Smith was not in a particularly good mood.  Going to check in his luggage (a new suitcase with a good selection of elegant clothes and several expensive Christmas presents), he saw a 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 pointy 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 check-in attendant, “Even if we were married, I would not want to kiss you under such a ghastly mockery of mistletoe.”

“Sir, look more closely at where the mistletoe is.”

“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.”

“I give up. Why is it there?”

“It’s there so you can kiss your luggage goodbye.”

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