Move it, Fuzzy Butt.

The seasoned business traveller will often grouse about navigating airport security with less savvy travellers....those with children laden down with milk boxes and metal beads and bangles who look incredulous when asked to toss liquids or wait until they reach the X-ray entry door before it occurs to them to begin to remove their chain mail.

One would think that a nice, small, rural airport like Helena would be free of such line chokers. Not so, they simply come in a different variety. Like the gentleman who took fully 10 minutes to empty his pockets, all the while chatting amiably with the TSA agent who seemed completely at ease in letting this 'slower then tree sap' rube back up the line.

Ms Foo, always looking for mischief, took this as an indication that things must just be a bit more laid back in MT, and that no one was in a hurry to make the two flights a day that service this burg. So she, taking her cue from the previous cowboy begins the long, labored process of disencumbering herself of the assorted detritus that only a bunny can stash on their furry frame.

'La, la, la, la...butterflies' she sing-songed til she turned around and saw impatient Bob standing behind her...