A1 Sauce

November is "get the heck out of Juneau" month. It's getting darker and raining and getting darker and raining so I like to head out with the family. Once the snow comes all is well, but November is rough.

Getting out of Juneau naturally means TSA. I don't mind all the security stuff. Stripping in front of strangers is kind of a hoot. The House of Babes used to advertise around seminary for exotic dancers. Three thousand dollars a week! Actually, I don't think they ever advertised there, but I might have posted a classified on the news board.

What cracks me up about security is seeing the bin of confiscated items. A huge bottle of A-1 is my favorite so far. Who brings a huge bottle of A1 in his carry-on? 

I've spent a good chunk of time thinking about this. What traveling scenario requires a 33 oz. bottle of steak sauce? I have to ask that especially now that I've looked it up and realized there is an adorable 1.4 oz travel size I have to own immediately.

As a great lover of A1, I know it is not for steak connoisseurs so whoever this person was, he was not involved in some kind of culinary competition. Maybe it's a trip to Aunt Bertha's who cooks steak every night till it's dead and only redeemed with the handy and huge bottle of A1 stashed under the table for such emergencies.

I have to admit I'm stumped and that bothers me. One of the great lessons in acting is that nobody acts without motivation. When you develop a character, you need to know what motivates her to do what she does or else you look like a psychopath. In theater, you have to be aware of what stories, what mitigating circumstances, what true or false realities a person has built to bring them to a point of action.

That's helpful in all our other relationships too. There was a great chapter in Kirt's book for police families about the a**hole syndrome. It's easy to start believing all bulls**t comes from a**holes. Once you enter this syndrome, then you don't have to deal with relationships and what folks are thinking because they are dismissed as a**holes (I hope my dad appreciates all these asterisks). 

This is a syndrome to be avoided not by guessing why some a**hole would be so stupid to bring a 33 oz bottle of A1 on the plane, but by asking. If I could have found the culprit at SEATAC, I would love to have asked. When you can, ask. 

When you can't go with Luther's explanation to the 8th commandment, "We should fear and love God, so that we do not lie about, betray or slander our neighbor, but excuse him, speak well of him, and put the best construction on everything."

It's probably a good idea to ask yourself the same question too. What is my motivation? Why am I doing this? What lies am I telling myself to make it all right? If I had to tell Tari, would she swear at me?