came up with nothing.
Returning to the bar, there was a bit of commotion going on as
people spoke in astonished tones.
“You don’t say! Nuclear? Really?” a man gasped.
“Those IRA boys have really lost their heads this time!” said
another.
“Well, apparently, it has nothing to do with Ireland,” corrected
one of the inebriated security guards, “The detonators were of
American origin and were on their way to Iceland, and it was in a
crate stamped ‘ICEBERG LETTUCE,’ some code maybe. And there
was all sorts of strange writing all over it as well. Indian script maybe.
Oh, hell. I’m not supposed to be telling you all secret information.”
“It just doesn’t make any sense!” protested the bartender.
“Well, national security and that sort of thing, you know…”
mumbled the guard.
“No, I mean why someone would be so stupid to try to smuggle
nuclear detonators on a plane!”
“Detonators?” I interjected, “Nuclear detonators? Where did
they find them?”
The bartender turned to me and said, “On your plane, lad! On
your plane!”
I was stunned.
“Oh, by the way,” he added, “Your girlfriend came looking for
you here, but I told her you went off with your grandmother.”
“Aaaaaah!” I screamed.
“I really wish he would stop doing that,” the guard said to the
bartender.
“Where did she go?” I asked, exhausted.
“Well, er...right behind you, actually,”
I twirled around and saw the chair where I had passed out an
hour and a half before. There was no one in it, but as I walked closer,
I saw a pair of feet sticking out from the side, and my heart leapt. It
was a young lady who had, like me, apparently fallen off the chair and
was sleeping on her backpack. The security guard had walked over to
her and was waking her up.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but you can’t sleep on the floor,” he said to
her.
“I’ll take care of this,” I said, and helped her to her feet. Her eyes
slowly looked up and met mine, and as they came into focus I was
BIG AMERICAN BREAKFAST
26
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