Air travel is complicated. There are many regulations. The worst involve carry-on luggage. Nowadays all toiletries (liquids, gels, and creams) must be kept in 3-ounce containers and transported in a clear, plastic, zip-top bag. 

Last week, in preparation for a trip to D.C., I went to Walmart to buy a 3-ounce tube of tooth-paste. To my surprise, there was an entire aisle of travel-size toiletries. 

I found a 3-ounce tube of Crest and took it to the check-out counter.  As I pulled out my wallet, the sales clerk looked at me and said, "That's a cute little tube of toothpaste."

I paid for the item and returned to my car. On the way, I thought to myself: What a strange thing to say.  

(Aside: You probably can't tell from my avatar, but I'm slightly nerdy.  In high school, I was known as "dweeb." In college, people called me "Oliver Twist."  I wear thick glasses, have a high-pitched voice, and sneeze when the ragweed is high. I'm very sensitive about being "unmanly").  

As I drove home, I thought about the clerk. Was he making fun of me? I couldn't get it out of my mind, so I decided to go back to Walmart the next day to find out.

When I arrived, the same clerk was at the counter. I went to the toiletries section and picked up a 3-ounce bottle of Scope. I placed in on the counter and pulled out my wallet. 

He greeted me and said, "What a darling little bottle of mouthwash."

I payed for the item and glanced at him before leaving. There was a smirk on his face!

I was angry. Still, I didn't want to impugn him without stronger evidence, so I decided to give him one more chance. 

I returned to Walmart the next day and found him at the counter. Picking up a 3-ounce bottle of Johnson's baby shampoo, I proceeded to check out. 

The clerk greeted me. I paid for the item, he handed me my change and said "What an adorable little bottle of shampoo." 

I was furious!

I may not be the smartest, strongest, or handsomest guy at Walmart, but nobody makes fun of Steve Martin Blevins! I was determined to have my revenge, so I came up with a plan.

The next day I went back to Walmart and picked up some travel-size items. Waiting for the customers to clear, I approached my tormenter. I placed the items on the counter and began to speak in a soft, sweet voice.

"Good evening, sir. I'd like to buy this cute little bottle of toothpaste, this darling little bottle of mouthwash, and this adorable little bottle of shampoo."

"All righty," he replied, sacking the items. 

"Oh, and I almost forgot -- I'd also like to buy (now yelling):

 THIS HUGE ASSORTMENT OF TROJAN CONDOMS, YOU MOTHAFUCKA!" 

My voice echoed from Housewares to Automotive. The clerk was terrified. He jumped back and tripped over a box. As he fell, his foot hit a shelf, which shook the counter and caused the toiletries to fall all around him.  Little plastic bottles were bouncing everywhere.

He gazed at me as if I were a ghost. 

"Why are you yelling at me? What did I do?"

I glared at him and guffawed.

"Let that be a lesson to you, Sonny. Nobody makes fun of..."

But before I could finish, I noticed something unusual: a tiny scar on his upper lip. Being a doctor, I knew exactly what it was: a old surgical scar from cleft palate surgery. 

Suddenly it occurred to me: His smirk wasn't a smirk. It was a deformity caused by childhood surgery!  

I was embarrassed beyond belief. All I could think of was getting out of Walmart -- fast.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, barely looking him in the eye. 

He glowered, picked up the toiletries, threw them in a sack, and thrust the sack in my face. I grabbed it and rushed to the car without looking back.

There I sat with my head on the steering wheel. What a terrible thing I had done! I really was a dweeb. Only a dweeb would worry about a stranger's opinion. 

At that moment, I made a vow:  Never again would I allow the opinions of others to guide my behavior.  It was time to put away my dweebish past -- and grow up.

That evening I felt better knowing that I had turned a new leaf. I ate dinner, read the paper, and watched a little television. Before going to bed, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, only to find that I was out of regular-size toothpaste.

So I went to the kitchen, got the Walmart sack, and emptied it. Out rolled the toothpaste, the mouthwash, the shampoo, and two items I had not purchased: a 3-ounce bottle of Vaseline and a miniature scented candle. 

I stood motionless for about three minutes. Then, slowly regaining the ability to breathe, I placed the unwanted items back in the sack, looked in the mirror, screamed "MOTHAFUCKA," and drank all three ounces of Scope in a single swig.