It is not very fun to travel alone. I can do it, mind you (I can do anything), but there is no one to hold your bags while you go to the bathroom. Instead you look like an half-wit wheeling your carry-on suitcase and ridiculously overstuffed backpack into a narrow stall, all the while suspiciously eyeing every other person in the restroom as if they were potential pick-pockets. Suffice to say I'm a little paranoid about my belongings, a tendency only aggravated by overhead announcements: "Please keep your personal belongings with you at all times" (Which, to me, always begs the question, what exactly are 'impersonal' belongings?).
At Arlanda airport in Sweden, we met up with my grandparents. My mom gave them these kissing salt-and-pepper shakers, attached at the lips by a magnet.
Life is good with a bendy straw.
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