Swiss jails and dysfunctional holidays…

Do you think they serve chocolate and cheese in Swiss jails?  I hope so.  Otherwise, when they come and find me, I will be out of luck.  Seriously, though, the fact that I am even posting about Swiss jails is both absurd and fitting.  Of course I’m typing about Swiss jails…as in, is there a chance I will find out with the inside of one looks like?  That’s pretty normal.  I’ve already posted about how I lost my bag.  Who knew me losing (SWAPPING OUT) a work laptop with someone else’s in security would lead to me being charged as a Swiss thief.  Well, an American thief in Switzerland.  Of course being a Swiss (jewel, obviously) thief would be just too damned romantic and awesome.

I get called into my boss’ office yesterday and she mentioned it was about my laptop.  I raced in there.  I’m dying to get this laptop back.  I hate looking like the trainwreck new girl (I actually own the part at this point) and I hate being without a laptop to play on at night.  And I don’t have 3-4k to pay back my company for a laptop I didn’t even lose in the first place.  Anyway, I ran.  I bounced on in her office, sure it would be on her desk.  No, of course it wasn’t there.  Why would it be?  Instead, what was on her desk?  A police report.  From Zurich.  With my name on it.  Yes, perfect.  Just what I needed.  And so there it was.   I had someone’s laptop who instead of just being content to find me and trade, filed a report and said I stole his.  In the security line.  At the airport.  In front of police.  Mmm hmm. 

Let’s get something straight.  I didn’t steal it.  I handed it to the security people who pulled me over for screening for the second time that day, causing me to miss my connecting flight.  AND, if that wasn’t enough, they did the over the clothes strip search, which included a little pat down, with a special patty pat pat on my goodies, I suppose as some sort of Swiss bonus prize.  Anyway.  After getting my computer bag back, which I didn’t want to be lugging through five airports in the FIRST PLACE, I missed that flight, was sweating like a swine in the Amazon and bullshit that I had to wait and look like a red faced Biggest Loser Contestant (all that damned running to catch my flight was so aggressive of me)  in the middle of yet another foreign airport.  So, yes, I sat down and had myself a fanta (with ice) and closed my eyes and silently fantasized about my bed and being in it that night.  I did not go on some sort of laptop stealing spree.  I didn’t case unsuspecting tourists.  I did not alter my identity in the bathroom with a wig and sunglasses, exciting as that would be, with a trench coat, of course.  I sat and drank a fanta, bought some truffles that were really overpriced and sat with my computer bag, which already had the wrong computer placed back in it.  End. of. Story. 

And now.  Now I have a police report with my name on it, questioning me about said Swiss laws I have broken or offended.  God, these people hate to be offended too.  Amazing.  And so I wait for Mr. Swiss Detective to come find me or clear my good name.  This really isn’t surprising.  It’s actually just not the story I wanted to tell when someone asked me why I got deported.  I wanted to be able to tell some sort of Jason Bourne story.  I suppose that would mean I’d have to be a spy gone rogue, not just a petty laptop thief, but still, you get the point.  Now I’m stuck in criminal limbo, researching famous Swiss criminals and planning my own defense.  Let’s be honest.  I won the case in 8th grade when I was the lead prosecutor in the Wizard of Oz case against Dorothy.  If I can bring that sweetheart down, I can defend myself, for sure.  But anyway, if I disappear, you’ll all know where I am.  In a jail, in Switzerland, eating cheese and chocolate in the hills.  Or so I’d like to think.

Now, let’s review the holidays, or maybe just a few things I found out while I was home.  First of all, home never changes and I used to hate that but I think as you grow older, that’s what you want.  That’s why you keep going back.  You actually get angry when things change.  So, good thing South Berwick was still the same.  Good thing my favorite chinese restaurant still had the best takeout on the seacoast (Eastern Mountain, I heart you).  Good thing it’s still ok to wear sweatpants in public and good thing it smelled just like a mix of fall and winter. And Wal-Mart.  God, you never, EVER think of how much you should appreciate Wal-Mart until there’s no such thing.  Ahh, home.   I loved it. 

Now, onto the crazy parts, which can never be avoided over the holidays.  I found out two things while I was home that were particularly entertaining.  First, and most surprisingly, some people in my family may or may not believe the world is ending in 2012.  I’m sorry, what?  What the hell crazy just came out of your mouth?  The world is doing what in two years?  Ending?  Oh good god.  Where is that kool-aid?  Give it to me so I can hide it, you crazy, crazy people.  I didn’t even know this was an international topic of crazy.  So I looked it up.  I googled and wikied it and my god, I could only take so much.  Maybe it wasn’t just the idea that made me horrified…it was the fact that someone blood related to me said, “yeah, I’m supposed to be stockpiling the pantry just in case.”  Just in case what?  Just in case the floods and the volcanos and the aliens all sweep through, erupt and attack at once?  Just in case I light on fire and blow up like a firework?  Ugggggggghhhhhh, this makes my head hurt.  It’s also the part of my family that may or may not vote for Sarah Palin in the future.  Oh god, I can’t even believe I just put that in writing.  Well, on second thought, those two topics should go in the same paragraph because if that embarrassment to women and politics is ever elected as President of anything—even wine club—the world should just end, immediately, because otherwise, I just know I will combust anyway.

And the other **fun part of our family holiday vacation–finding out that planning your wedding has absolutely nothing to do with you.  It has to do with your family and your in-laws and your checkbook and really doesn’t have much to do with what you actually want because god forbid you pick something you actually had in mind.  That would just cause everyone to hate each other and might even lead to such things as family voting on whether or not they think your month or location or theme or color scheme or dresses or cupcake selection doesn’t exactly line up with what they were thinking.  Hmmmm.  Good talk.  I’ll leave it at that for now, but really.  There will be no more talk of our wedding until my contracts are signed and my cupcakes have been tasted and picked out.  And for the record, I charge $500 now for “suggestions” that have nothing to do with a fall wedding on a lake in Maine.  Get your checkbooks ready.

Now, off to bed to end this nagging case of jet lag.

One thought on “Swiss jails and dysfunctional holidays…

  1. Justin says:

    2 things;

    1) Funniest post ever. I think the part re: 2012 should be used in the “you might be a Redneck if…” genre.

    2) Elope.

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