Wednesday, January 11, 2012

so I tapped my ruby red shoes . . .

Not responding in a positive way to something intended to be amusing; feeling somewhat annoyed or disapproving.
Apparently, because of my "magnetic personality" I set off metal detectors.

It's usually a minor inconvenience.  Going in and out of Courthouses and Federal Buildings entails going through metal detectors. I set them off.  I'm used to it.  There the only "penalty" for setting off metal detectors in those venues is a scan with annoying hand metal detectors that occasionally screech or squeal.

This last week was different though.  I just returned from a business trip that took me out of town for a few days.  I flew to the East Coast.  In airports, it means I'm going to get inspected, detected, anything but neglected!

Not only did I undergo the ignominy of the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) body scans, but I got the privilege of being "patted down" in three different international airports within the last week.  Then the gloves used to pat me down are tested to assure my clothes don't have some kind of special residue.
TSA should instead stand for "Tantric Sadists of America" - Don't ya think?
At one station, as I was putting my shoes back on, a helpful TSA employee brought over a container with a few cents of change I'd "forgotten" to pick up.

"You forgot your change, Sir!"  I was told.

"Keep it as a tip," I responded.

 Deadpan voice, unamused, says; "We're not allowed to accept tips, Sir."

"Anyone who feels me up that nice deserves a tip don't you think?"

No response, blank stare.

"Well for God's sake man," I said earnestly, "If I forgot the change in my pocket, and my wife washed the pants, next time you might accuse me of laundering money!"

He wasn't impressed.

Neither was I.

I couldn't help but wishing I was in "Oz."  Despite the wicked witches of certain cardinal points on the compass, I don't remember poor Dorothy getting felt up!
There's no place like home . . .
There's no place like home . . .
There's no place like home . . .


  1. Hello,
    Due to quota's that need to be met, when I was a frequent flyer due to work I was patted down upon every single trip through the metal detectors/security. I only learned of the quota from one woman who patted me down both in the morning when I was leaving to Toronto and upon my return to Vancouver when my work day had been done. I was surprised that she was patting me down yet again and in a moment of fatigued she shared with me that "X" amount of people must be patted down and rarely do women fly early in the morning or come back late at night - generally men fly due to business and not as many women (according to stats Canada and the agent I spoke with).

    Being mauled at the airport is something I grew accustomed to, unfortunately and I do not think it is going to get any better.

    Happy flying.

  2. Lol, I am always amazed more people don't lose their chit going through all the crap they do these days. Your humor seems mild by comparison to the response some of this would warrant.


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