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(The news report out of Cleveland Hopkins Int'l Airport stated Shaun Rogers of the Cleveland Browns attempted to board a plane to Houston with a loaded gun in his carry on. My usually reliable sources tell me there was no loaded gun involved. Reporting a gun was more believable than the true facts. This is how it really went down.)
The man was huge. Others in line smiled up at him. They knew him. He played in the NFL.
He was next in line, so he put both carry-ons and his shoes on the conveyor belt.
Two Airport Security guards stood near by. One motioned him through the metal detector, while the other peer into the x-ray monitor. The buzzer was silent , no metal, but K-9, the German Shepard across the room, was on it's hind legs hopping in the air, barking wildly.
The guard peered closer at the x-ray screen, then toward the dog. “Sir, we have a problem.” She walked across and led K-9 back. He began to paw excitedly at the carry-on. The lady moved slowly back from the screen, holding her drawn weapon pointed toward the floor.
Surprised, the other officer, came over to look. This was unbelievable. They both pointed at the NFL player. Neither could speak. Eight metal boxes all in a row showed up on the monitor. They had only seen something like this in training videos, never for real.
Finally, “Sir, could you step over here for a second.” The other security guard rushed off, hell-bent through a side door.
Breathing heavily, the guard frowned up at the NFL player.
“Are you going to search me some more?” asked the player.
The guard stood frozen, speechless. Then the side door shot open ant three more guards, rifles in the air, rushed out.
The crowd in line looked aghast. The three guards, crowded around the monitor. Then one said, “Sir, we need you to get down on your knees, right now.”
“Okay, okay, what is this about? What'd I do?”
“What is that?” All three pointed at the monitor. “How can this be, sir?” Even K-9 the dog wanted to know. So one fearless guard unzipped the case, and there they were.
The player sunk to the floor. “OOOPPPS! OMG!” He slapped his forehead. “Sorry guys, but I forgot about that. Those are just a few five pound tins of Ganja. I sorta forgot it was in there. Stupid me. I'll have to check better next time. Really. I forgot to check.”
“You didn't know it was unlawful to bring Cannabis onto an airplane? It's contraband."
“It's Ganja...not canna...contra...what? Come on. Just forgot it was there. It's legal for me...I got this understanding with Barney...he's the deputy back home..."
The player rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Can we quiet down the dog? Guys, I'm on my way to see my folks, in Houston. It's for Easter. Look,” he said in a low tone. “just take some for yourselves, leave me enough, and I'll be out of your hair. That be okay?”
“He has another carry-on bag. We should check it out. Better stand back everyone. No telling what the hell...”
"OH! Damn. About that other bag...it's got...well...a severed head inside. Oopps again. Guess I should have checked better before I left home. Man, hu-hu-hu, I must be losing it. Really, I had no idea I was taking that on the plane, too...funny story about that head..."
Total silence. The player looked around at open mouths, everyone stunned.
A guard moved behind the player and clicked the handcuffs.
“Come on people. I can't be guilty of nothing if something just slipped my mind, right?”
That even silenced K-9.
That's my take. What do you think? Should there be an IQ test for pro players somewhere along the line? If so, how smart do you think they should be before we let them fly home for Easter?