This makes me appreciate Amtrak
March 10, 2008 | Filed under: Planes trains and automobiles
“TSA really means ‘Tough Shit Assholes’” – Anastacia Campbell
I’m standing behind a man who doesn’t understand the difference between gallon and quart. He then takes approximately 53 years removing his belt and shoes. By the time he steps foot to the other side of the metal detectors I have gray hair, seven grandchildren and a walker has magically appeared by my side.
When it is finally my turn, I expeditiously remove my Vans, belt and blazer. My boarding pass is in my right hand and my left hand is doing a really shitty job at being a makeshift pair of suspenders. I shuffle through and get to the other side peering through to my suitcase. I begin to think the sweet thoughts of exploring future options of doing what the kids call ‘checking luggage’. But the kids aren’t anal-retentive assholes afraid of losing their precious pink and black Chuck Taylors or the world’s greatest bra. So I suffer.
I keep peering as TSA lemming #1 stares at the contents on the x-ray. TSA lemming #2 then puts it back through. I’m still clinging desperately to my pants and feeling anxious because I only have an hour until my flight and I’ll need to sit and breathe for 45 minutes. I can feel each and every neuron spontaneously imploding because my lord, there is absolutely nothing in that bag that would warrant 17 searches and the use of a dog. So the bag goes back through again and TSA lemming #3 (How many TSA agents does it take to go through a Samsonite?) says that she needs to physically go through my bag.
PHYSICALLY GO THROUGH MY BAG immediately causes my left eye to twitch and I have to resist the urge to kick her in her giant head (dude, it was HUGE). She unzips it and actually removes each item of clothing and I lifting up my shirts and inspecting each and every shoe with a magnifying glass looking for a ‘piece of metal’. She starts to interrogate me as to the whereabouts of this mysterious piece of metal all the while removing my underwear and bras from the mesh pocket. I continue to stand there gripping my pants and boarding pass while the people in line behind me start to shift uncomfortably. She is still looking for the ‘piece of metal’ because the metal is in there and it is probably wrapped up in my boy cut underwear or perhaps I hid it in my Hope in a Tube or perhaps it’s embedded in my t-shirt.
She literally has the entire contents of my meticulously packed bag splayed out for the world to see. I am actually getting physically ill watching her take every item out, unfold it, then haphazardly toss it back in because do you know how long it took me to iron my ‘I Love Ghana’ tee? And yes, I do own several pairs of hot pink panties and all of Albany probably knows my cup size. She then shrugs and says “Thank you”. I give her the my best, I hope someone drops an anvil on your big toe and that your car gets hit by a Mack truck transporting a mobile home and you break your hip on a patch of ice, white hot, fiery glare of death. Because “Thank you”? Really? I roll my eyes and she has the audacity to say, “You could be a little more polite”.
I am so sorry. For some reason my politeness factor takes a giant leap out of the window when I’m standing in the middle of the aiport with my pants halfway to my ankles and everyone in the greater capital region knows that my ass and boobs really are that large and that I wear a lot of mesh because it makes things airy. My bad.
slynnro says:
DAMMIT, why couldn’t her car have been broken into?
Angela says:
Oh, how miserable… and that’s why I check my baggage. I know they’re rifling through it, but at least I don’t have to go through the indignity of standing there and WATCHING. Well, that and I just can’t figure out how I’m supposed to get all of my liquids into 3 oz or smaller containers.
jess says:
hey i love the VANS…especially for traveling.
i wish they went better with my corporate attire.
Angella says:
This reminds me of last year when I flew out of a small airport that DID NOT EVEN HAVE A SCANNER. I had to empty the contents of my (full of garbage) purse for them to check manually. I have everything (including tampons) laid out on the table for the other passengers to see.
I also got turned back at security on Friday because I had an UNOPENED Diet Coke. Because, you know, Diet Coke is a dangerous liquid.
Your story takes the cake though.
I am giggling at the visual of you “wearing lots of mesh”. Hee!
Suebob says:
Fly drunk. It makes this shit easier to bear. Like the time they pulled out my 8 mini bottles of Bailey’s and 53 tampons out of my purse looking for the tiny swiss army knife that had gotten wedged at the bottom where the lining was ripped…I SWEAR the Bailey’s were for the exMrS, who was a huge wimp about flying and had to be plied with a constant stream of sugary alcohol. Me, I LOVE the flying part and you KNOW what I’m drinking.
arse poetica says:
Airy! I laughed so hard I snorted. Now my nose hurts, but I hear you on the favorite bra. I have resorted to carrying my fave bra in my laptop bag on flights where I have to check baggage. Screw the rest of it; I’m keeping that bra. Not so meshy though.
(Came here via the one-and-only Suebob.)
Karen Sugarpants says:
OMG Heather, I’m so sorry - but you tell it so well, it’s hilarious. Now, not then of course.
You ought to write a book - seriously.
Lori says:
I got the hand-search of my messenger bag last time. The agent said he was looking for “the bottle of water.” There was no bottle of water, of course; just a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, some baby carrots, some pretzels, an emergency stash of chocolate, four cameras, a folding grocery bag, a hat, my wallet, my iPhone, my work ID, a wad of cash, a Moleskine notebook, two pens, one pencil, MOO cards, business cards, three handiwipes, some used Kleenex tissues, a copy of Eat, Pray, Love, and… a bottle of antiseptic hand gel, which is probably what the guy manning the scanner saw, but the hand-searcher did not. At least there were no undergarments, thank the lord, but after the bag search, I still had to wait while he hand-inspected each of the four rolls of 1600-speed film I didn’t want to go through the scanner. I appreciate their thoroughness, but sometimes I wonder if the undignified rifling is designed to just get us all to check our luggage already.
If you lived in Philadelphia, though? You wouldn’t check, either.
Susan says:
I love that you iron your tee shirts.
Loralee says:
Somehow, her having a huge head is just the lemon juice on the paper cut, no???
metalia says:
I’m STILL laughing at this…and simultaneously groaning that I’m getting on a plane myself later today, and will likely encounter a similar situation. (I’m a magnet for the special search. Don’t I look dangerous?)
uǝʞoʇ says:
I feel your pain. I’ve gone through this a couple of times myself. Maybe we bloggers looks suspicious somehow?
gorillabuns says:
I personally love it when women named “Pat” touch each and every pair of underwear I own. I leave feeling somewhat violated.
Lara says:
Well, you know, terrorists wear pink mesh undies, too. Also, I canNOT believe she told you you could be more polite. NO. WAY.
Meghan says:
The last time I flew, the TSA agent ever so kindly touched my toothbrush. With her TSA-agent fingers. I cried, right there in the middle of Chicago. You should get a medal or a plaque or something for not slapping the “You could be a little more polite” hag.
Kristabella says:
I would have said “You just put your paws all over my shit and showed my underwear to all of Albany, you’re lucky I didn’t smack you in the face and all I gave you was an eye roll.”
I’m forever checking my bags now.
Momo Fali says:
I once had a co-worker who had a vibrator pulled out of her carry on. I was there and saw it with my own eyes.
Jay says:
Ah, travel.
Sooo relaxing.
Stephanie says:
Damn, were you at the Albany airport Sunday night? Because I was totally there too! Luckily for me, though, no one rifled through my things, but I used to be the one who was pulled aside ALL the time for the “random” checks.
The Over-Thinker says:
Holy Jeebus, you know how to tell a story. Nearly peed my pants when I got to the part about the HUGE head. I’m picturing that flight attendant w/ chopsticks in her hair from “Meet the Parents”. What a jerk.
And also? Please share–what is the world’s greatest bra–I’m forever searching for one.
NB says:
I read and never comment but this is the greatest story.
Don’t hate on me, but I work part-time for a “big airline” as a F.A. I swear most of the passengers get on board so stressed in part because of their TSA sagas.
I know we (the airlines) add to the stress, but we are not the only cause.
I am a very, very nice F.A. I love all your children
Camels & Chocolate says:
As you can imagine, I fly just a teeny bit (as a travel writer? you don’t say!). I always, always, always cram all my stuff into the obligatory carry on and personal item. Until last week, when I went to Brazil and NYC and had to cram clothing for 10 days in two different hemispheres into one bag (not to mention all my electronics: computer, multiple cameras, different lenses) and check it. While in NYC, my friend gave me a belated birthday present that included, among more normal things, a latex dong and vibrating nipple clamps (she works for NBC and they received this hilarious package of sex toys, she didn’t actually but them). But I was soooo worried they were going to do a random inspection of my checked baggage and find the paraphernalia. Well, the story’s quite anticlimactic because they didn’t, but wouldn’t that have just been the most embarrassing thing ever?
Andrew says:
There is a photo contest devoted and sponsored by AmTrak. The winner will receive $1,000. Your photos must have a picture of the new Amtrak logo and their trains. Good luck! http://www.photocompete.com/2008/05/12/picture-our-train-2009-wall-calendar-photo-contest/