PB11 Hitler Jr.

She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen before or since, (other than my loving wife of some 26 years, of course). It happened like this. I had only been married for a couple of years, when I had the chance to go on a secret mission and take my wife. Since the mission involved a short stay in Paris, she readily agreed to go. We arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport with our luggage. We had a lot of luggage. We also had our 18 month old daughter and her support system; car seat, a fold up stroller, something called a “sassy seat” for restaurant dining, boxes of Cheerios, and bags of toys.

As soon as we stepped into the lobby I saw her. Let me be clear. This was nothing salacious about it. She was a very wholesome looking, clean cut young woman in a simple print dress. Long, straight hair. Perfect features, slender body. I think she may have been Swiss, German Swiss, for reasons that will soon become clear. But I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It was like spotting a 7’7” professional basketball player in the barbershop. As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t look away even though I knew I should. Not surprisingly she became rather uncomfortable and whispered something to the young man who suddenly joined her. Her partner oozed masculinity. He was of average size but with above average muscles. Blond, blue eyed. Aryan looking. Let’s be straight up here. He looked like a Nazi and acted like one, too.

The Neo Nazi gave me one last long evil stare and they went on their way. I suddenly noticed that the young woman had left her camera on the chair next to us. I immediately volunteered to go find her. I left the camera in case she returned before I could track her down. I hurried off to find the second most beautiful woman in the world and, after searching every corner of the busy airport for well over half an hour, found her. As I walked towards her, gasping for breath, I shouted that I had found her camera. She looked frightened. I immediately grasped that she spoke no English. Being a man of the world, I switched to French. More fear, no comprehension. Hitler, Jr., started towards me and said in the only English words he knew, “Ask a clerk, ask a clerk”. I said, “Go find the Fuhrer”. Suddenly I recalled a class I had taken at Upper Iowa (the Harvard of northern Fayette County) in Native American studies and switched to sign language. I pantomimed the taking of a picture, placing my hands up to my face as if looking through the viewfinder of a camera. She got it. She grabbed her Nationalist Socialist boyfriend and pulled him back. Then she smiled and indicated that we should go get the camera together.

Unfortunately by now I had no clue where I was or, more importantly, where I had been. So she TOOK MY HAND, and off we went to find my family. When my wife handed over the camera, she thanked us profusely in some language that I am pretty sure was German, but who knows? I sighed with the satisfaction of a person who has done God’s work with no thought of reward in this life and started looking for the baggage claim. Suddenly, there she was again. Approaching from the direction of the gift shop, she handed a little stuffed bear to our daughter, smiled, turned around, and left.

Somewhere in an isolated chalet near Zurich, a middle aged woman, somewhat plump, but with traces of youthful beauty remaining, is sitting on her balcony overlooking the Swiss Alps. She is listening to yodeling on her ipod and munching one of those giant triangular Swiss chocolate bars. Her husband, an international banker, is at work transferring funds to the grandchildren of the Third Reich in Argentina. She stares out over the valley and thinks wistfully, “I wonder what ever happened to the cool guy with the beautiful wife, and the cute kid at the Paris airport?” YOU know AND you know I’m right.