I had a plan. It was a good plan.
Today I flew for the first time since the infamous backscatter x-ray machines began working their way through our nation's airports. I had a speech prepared; one pulled from a website equally outraged at this silly attempt at security theater.
And then, for not the first time in my life, procrastination ruined my best laid plans.
Forty minutes to my flight. Security line snaked far past the ropes meant to contain it. Pre-prepared indignation put on hold.
I got to the front of the Phase One line. My friendly neighborhood TSA agent waved me over. I handed him my license and boarding pass. He was a younger short with one of those haircuts made popular by George Clooney and Matt Damon. I guess Jack Bauer had one too. Kinda.
He inspected my license. "Hey Ginger. How you doin'?" Like Joey from Friends. I want to call bullshit: he gets to crack jokes and I don't? Hardly seems fair. I made with my best "aren't you precious?" smile. That must have been what assured him I wasn't a terrorist. I wish he had told his co-workers.
I guess this is as a good a time as any to mention airports make me sweat. Not like Chris Farley or Kevin Smith sweat, but with all those bodies packed together, my natural inclination is to get a bit clammy. I've never had an out-of-body experience right at one of these special moments, but I have to imagine I don't look terribly comfortable.
Maybe that's why within a couple warm bodies of getting my laptop bag onto the security conveyer belt (Freedom--thar be up ahead!), one of Joey's TSA comrades set his eyes on me.
"Ma'am, you've been selected for additional screening."
"Excuse me?"
"Your hands. I need to swab your hands."
"Why?"
He looked nonplussed. I had deviated from the routine. For a brief second, my pre-prepared indignation did a happy dance.
"To ensure you have no materials on your person."
Let me translate: We need to make sure that between eating your bowl of Wheaties and driving to the airport this morning, you didn't decide to venture into a terrorist safe house to build a bomb.
Swabbing done. It was my turn at the backscatter. Yippee!
For those who haven't had the pleasure: you stand with your legs hip width apart holding your hands over your head with your thumbs and forefingers touching in a circle. Hold for eight seconds. TSA Yoga. DVD coming soon.
Completed with my dose of radiation, I was told to go two steps forward where a rather large woman had a surprise for me. Turns out I had won at Airport Security Bingo.
"Ma'am, you've been selected for additional screening."
I'd like to take a moment here to discuss use of the word "selected." I know that some of the greatest PR and branding minds the U.S. Government can afford probably sat around a table coming up with appropriate "soft" language; the kind of non-threatening verbiage that will put even a passenger with, say, a metric ton of explosives strapped to their genitals at ease. This word though drives me nuts though. It's too soft; too familiar. The TSA ain't Ed McMahon and a pat down isn't a really big check. I think we can all use a little honesty within this process.
I have to say--the pat down wasn't that bad. I won't be paying for the pleasure of Broomhilda (not her real name) anytime soon, but she was, shall we say, exceedingly gentle. She was almost clinical running her hands over me explaining her actions every step of the way. I was wearing a skirt and there wasn't even a hint of awkwardness there: she never went up, just lifted it slightly. Nice job, Sea-Tac.
The first leg of my journey was to Atlanta. My first single-serving friend (obligatory BILM movie reference) was a very nice man who looked and sounded a lot like Bill Engvall. I learned during our journey together that he was an airline pilot (so no "here's your sign" jokes then?) who had once flown commercial, but was now living and working in Japan flying private tours to Hawaii. A few minutes into the flight he fell asleep. Best single serving friend I've had in a while.
Things I've learned while traveling today:
- Delta Airlines has the least leg room of any carrier I have ever flown. On the upside, their flight attendants actually seem to give a shit.
- I'm susceptible to suggestive sneezing.
- Attendants cannot take garbage while serving beverages.
- Delta's coffee: not bad.
- Sea-Tac airport has this freakish mural on the large windows next to main C gates. It includes a couple in bed flanked by what looked like a unicorn and the cowardly lion.
