The Christmas airport

It was a few days before Christmas. The trip went reasonably well, and he was
ready to go back home. The airport on the other end 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, he
was not in a particularly good mood. (Almost a scrooge) Going to check in his
luggage (which, for some reason, had become one suitcase with entirely new
clothes), he saw 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 pointer 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 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."


"Ok, 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."


"Ok, I give up. Why is it there?"


"It's there so you can kiss your luggage good-bye."