Unfiltered Story #195900

(I’m the idiot in this story. When I was nine, we visited family in Munich. The day before we left, we were at a riverbed with tons of rather big stones. My brother and I, both avid rock fans, picked up a few and I put them in my backpack. Keep in mind, these things are at least 15 centimetres long. You could probably kill someone with a little skill or some bad luck with these things. The next morning at the airport, I have this very backpack with me as my carry on.)
X-ray operator: “Excuse me, young lady?”
Me: “Yeah?”
X-ray operator: “Do-do you have STONES in your backpack?”
Me: “… yeah?”
X-ray operator: “You know that you’re not allowed to take these with you, right?”
Me (turning bright red): “No? Oh, Sorry. Should I… just leave them here?”
(At this point, my mom is already laughing so hard she tears up a little. The operator takes pity on poor, awkward me…)
X-ray operator: “You know what? Keep them. Just promise to be extra careful with your bag and remember not to bring stones next time you fly, okay?”
(Thank you, lady, for letting me keep my approximately two kilograms of rock souvenirs!)