After many, many times of opting out of full body scans at the TSA airport security, I was finally flagged as a troublemaker and received EXTRA private screening. I was escorted into the back behind a curtain by two other women, which I'm sure was also on purpose, but whatever. They can go fuck themselves. Apparently, the difference between regular patdowns and EXTRA screening is she gets to use the fronts of her hands without any witnesses except her cohort. I hope she enjoyed it.
Obviously, nothing on me or in my possession was illegal, and I didn't trigger any further alarms, but I can see how intimidating that process might be for someone without my intestinal fortitude, or my stubbornness -- call it what you like.
The cohort had the pleasure of rifling through my unmentionables, although she did this back in the public eye. It was all security theater, and it constantly surprises me how (the) hoi polloi fall for this rigamarole.
Fooled them. It was actually the distraction I needed not to completely lose my shit and start bawling in public. I kept it together all the way until I got on the plane. And then my eyes started leaking terribly. Fortunately I had extra tissues in my purse that were only slightly manhandled by the TSA.
I thought I was doing a mediocre job of not making a scene. Silent crying is one of my specialties. However, the kind woman next to me noticed and asked if I was okay. Of course that made me cry harder because awwwwwww. I told her I was sad but would be okay. She patted my knee and politely ignored my tears the rest of my flight. When we deplaned, she wished me well and said she hoped my day got brighter. Awwwww. Just when I think humanity is lost, I see altruistic kindness.
I navigated a tight connection and caught my flight home without further incident. Until I arrived at my car. One of the tires was low. I had a slight migraine building (perhaps because of the tears or the tears were because of the impending migraine, who can say), and I wasn't in the mood. Logic prevailed though; five minutes putting air in my tire would be a lot quicker and easier than having a blowout on the highway.
I made it home safely and had an emotional reunion with Kitten.
No comments:
Post a Comment