Move over knitting lady and moron man, Alli needs to look out the window.
I don’t fly much. Four, maybe five times a year. Yet somehow I am on “the list” at a certain regional airport here in Mobile that shall go unnamed for fear of retaliation. Yeah, yeah, so we do have just the one itty bitty airport here in Mobile and I’m sure the TSA Nazis will crack my cryptic code.
I know, I know. These TSA “security” (and I do use the word security loosely here) people are just doing their jobs. Get off their backs. Blah blah blah. Well this is my rant so leave me be. Let me bitch about them so I can feel better. Until the next time I have to fly.
They see me coming up the airport escalator, and said escaltor works about 70% of the time, and they prepare themselves for my arsenal. Whether it’s my Colgate Wisp travel toothbrush or my white noise machine (yes I sleep with one of those things…get off my back!), they are convinced somewhere, somehow, I am packing TNT. Get out the swab wands…cuz we sure got to check Allison’s luggage for dynamite, or perhaps just the makings for dynamite, not real sure, but by God she is carrying something that we need to swab!
Last week’s incident involved an unpacking of my suitcase, which included touching my undies. ACK. And for you pervs out there, it was a lady who insisted on all this hooey, NOT some disgusting hornball man who just wanted to touch a lady’s underthings. “And would you like me to repack your suitcase, or would YOU like to?” she had the nerve to ask me. And yet you have to smile and look pleased that they are woman-handling your personal property lest you end up in airport jail. “Oh, no thank you, I’LL do it!” As if she just did me a favor, like she brought me a second glass of chardonnay, I must smile and not look pissed as hell that my entire suitcase is unpacked for all of West Mobile to see. Drama.
And OH, did I mention the knitting needles?! I don’t think I did. I had the pleasure of sitting in row 948 in the back of the plane from Orlando to DFW last month, and sat next to a knitting lady and moron man who hogged the arm rests. More on you, moron man, in a minute. The knitting lady whips out these huuuuuuge metal knitting needles with points on them surely sharp enough to slice open the jugular of anyone who crosses her path. Me being me, I ask her how in the heck she got past security with those things, when I was asked to remove the business cards from my back pockets during my “randomly selected” full body scan (apparently my TSA Orlando peeps hate me too). I guess business cards could produce a nasty paper cut to a flight attendant. Knitting lady says she’s never gotten stopped or questioned about her knitting needles, and yes she has ones bigger and pointier than these, in the 10 years since she started knitting. And she travels weekly, that’s right, every week. “But, I travel with the yarn in my bag too, so they must figure I really do knit.” Now THAT is a good tip for anyone planning to hijack a plane. Just pack yarn with your daggers, I mean knitting needles, and no worries from TSA. It’s the Colgate Wisp or Allison’s shoes that may contain enough TNT to bring down the plane.
Moron man, I’m talking to you. I feel compelled to inform you people who get stuck with the middle seats (yeah, you suck, sorry), you do NOT own both arm rests! You must share. Or else Alli will slowly push on your elbow until you relent. But I’ll do it with a smile. Cuz I don’t want to end up in airport jail.
puckettisms 