A short play presented at Seniors' and Community Centres by the Alexandria Players (https://alexandriaplayers.blogspot.com/)
Three friends -- Liz, Eve, and Rena -- sit chatting over coffee.
Liz: This will be the last time we get together for coffee 'til spring. Which warm climes are you two off to this winter?
Eve: Why is it always "climes", not climates, when people talk about holiday plans?
Rena: Yes, why? And always "wanderlust", never just plain travel.
Eve: The romance of the voyage, I guess. The journey. Anyway, to answer your first question, I'm off to Arizona. If I even get past the airport, that is. Airports are so fussy about security now. I never know what I can take onboard.
Liz: I know. I just hope my new metallic hip-joint won't set off alarms.
Eve: You're lucky you've only got one. I've got two new hips and a new knee to worry about.
Liz: Of course, I've got my pacemaker too.
Eve: What with all the titanium, plastic in our cataract-free eyes, gold in our teeth and computers in our hearing aids, we own more mineral wealth than some of the smaller countries!
Liz: You've got computerized hearing aids?
Eve: Yes. The "SmartEar". Much smarter than a phone -- you program it to recognize phrases you don't like so it can automatically digitally delete them. There's a barrier between your ear and your brain, so you can filter out opinions you disagree with.
Liz: Brilliant! Much better than writing Letters to the Editor about them. Robotic Intelligence, eh?
Eve: Somehow it uses the gold crowns on your teeth as a conductor of ... something or other ...
Rena: (drily) Thus transplanting your brain into the robot. Oh, the irony.
Eve: No Rena, gold ... not iron. Sounds like your hearing's going too. You need a SmartEar.
Liz: It's my pills I'll be worried about -- airports are so fussy about drugs.
Eve: (sighs) Yes -- remember when being beyond a certain age meant being beyond suspicion too?
Liz: No longer. My cousin was accused of smuggling drugs in his colostomy bag.
Eve: And the airport security line-ups are so slow. But I've got a terrific new walking stick for passing the time: the knob comes off the top so you can keep your -- shall we say -- "energy drink" inside it. And there's a button on one side that makes an umbrella pop up if it rains. But here's the best part: another button can make bullets shoot out of the shaft!
Liz: Bullets??
Eve: Yes, it converts into a gun! So if there's one of those terrorist incidents, you're armed. Brilliant eh?
Liz: Wow, that's what I call concealed-carry.
Eve: I predict walking stick firearms will soon be legal.
Rena: (rolling her eyes) So the airport check-in desk has a sign saying "Triggering language will not be tolerated", yet triggers on guns will be? I'm so glad I never travel.
Liz: Oh but you should! Think of the fun you're missing -- once you get out of the airport, that is. I take a few pills to calm myself in pre-boarding. I've got this great new pill-dispenser in the shape of the Prime Minister. To keep track of how many pills you've forgotten you've taken, they come out of his mouth one by one. You can pretend they came from a government Pharmacare plan, rather than being paid for out of your own pocket.
Rena: (drily) At least you didn't pay for all the metallic hardware yourself.
Liz: A benefit of being a senior. Have you noticed all the airport staff look about twelve? And that they act weird? Like they all have autism or mood disorders or something that young people go in for.
Eve: Yeah, like "social anxiety". What is that anyway? They should make a Prime Ministerial Pill-Dispenser for it. Where did you get that product? I wonder if there's one with pills coming out of his other end -- like so much of what politicians say.
Liz: I'll send you the website URL. Airport staff probably get them on an employees' health plan -- the "Anticipatory Mental Illness Plan".
Eve: Young people today have so many ailments it's unbelievable.
Liz: I call it decrepitude-envy.
Eve: It takes a life-time to become decrepit, but no one wants to earn their diseases any more. Anyway (she lifts her coffee mug in a toast) I'm off to buy my airline tickets. See you next Spring, Chickens!
Liz and Rena: 'bye-bye ... 'bye-bye ... Happy Flight-Trails!
-- They make a last toast with their mugs.
