It was a few days before Thanksgiving. The trip went reasonably well, and Clarence Johnson was ready to travel. The airport on the other end had turned a tacky red and green, and loudspeakers blared irritating elevator renditions of well known Christmas carols.
Being someone who took Christmas very seriously, and being slightly tired, Clarence was not in a particularly good mood. Going to check in his luggage (which, for some reason, had become one suitcase with entirely new clothes), he saw some mistletoe hanging. Not real mistletoe, but very cheap imitation with red paint on the rounder parts and green paint on the flatter and pointier parts, that could be taken for mistletoe only in a very Picasso sort of way.
With a considerable degree of annoyance and nowhere else to vent it, he said to the attendant, Even if I were not married, I would not want to kiss you under such a gross mockery of mistletoe.
Sir, look more closely at where the mistletoe is hanging, mentioned the attendant.
Ok, I see that it’s above the luggage scale, which is the place you’d have to step forward for a kiss, responded the traveler.
The attendant answered, That’s not why it’s there.
Ok, I give up, muttered the annoyed man. Then, why is it there?
To which the attendant replied, It’s there so you can kiss your luggage goodbye.