Is There Anything Worse Than A Bruised Banana?



I say this with the utmost sensitivity, but also not being sensitive at all because I’m at the airport, sans coffee, and all I had to look forward to after the debacle that is TSA security was the banana I liberated from my office yesterday afternoon.

To my dismay, after removing said freed work banana out of my trusty satchel, I found that it looks mildly discolored.

Normally, this is fine. I’ll take a brown spotted over a hard green any day of the week and twice on Sunday, but this particular banana was full of lies and deceit.

After the initial peel, which usually fills me with glee and anticipation of eating a potassium induced fruit that, after consumption, alleviates me of an annoying pulsating cramp in my left shoulder from sleeping weird, I noticed that the one or two spots on the outside revealed a more disturbing inside.

This banana was dead.

And there was no saving it.

It was like I opened a yellow protective peel expecting to see a freestanding fruit, yet I was greeted with a pile of brown mush that was only held together by a damaged outer shell.

The banana that held my hand through security, the banana that helped me save one whole dollar at Dunkin Donuts, the banana I worked tirelessly to liberate from the kitchen cages of corporate greed, my friends, that banana was inedible.

If you know anything about airports, you know that getting through security unscathed and with your entrails intact is a feat most people don’t overcome.

But I thought luck was on my side When the TSA woman at the initial check point let me know that I basically don’t look like a terrorist.

Round One: Meg – 1, Airport – 0.

I was selected to pass through security in the fast lane. No shoe removal, no invasive body scans, no suitcase search, just an innocent face and a plane to catch.

And the thought in the back of my mind that I would be enjoying the
deliciously ripe banana that accompanied me through airport security.

After pretty much getting upgraded to the first class security line, and fast tracking it through metal detectors like it ain’t no thang, I was shocked that after the good fortunes I was again rewarded with a wonderful window seat to watch planes departing whilst eating my potassium.

Round Two: Meg – 2, Airport – 0.

Only then did I realize that my morning would take a turn for the worst.

I could not enjoy my banana.

I couldn’t even look it in the eye and tell it why I was throwing it out. Β It just needed to go.

I am hungry. I am tired. And I am still twitching in my left shoulder because I slept weird.

Fuck you, banana. Get a hard shell. Adapt, evolve, do something and stop ruining my life.

Airport/Banana – 1, Meg – 0.

13 thoughts on “Is There Anything Worse Than A Bruised Banana?

  1. Dang bananas can ruin your life if you let them. Just say NO to bananas. NO!
    LOL, Great post, by the way. Loved it.

  2. I used to love bananas, until one day, I sat down on my sofa and began to bite off pieces, then I gagged. For no reason that I could think of. I can only safely eat them now in smoothies. I’m saddened by this. Thanks so much for following my blog!

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