I was searched at the airport — again — last week.
It never fails. I either have to walk through the metal detector three times before I register clear, or my backpack is searched. Or the contents of my carry-on luggage are rifled.
I don’t fly all that often — maybe two or three times a year, but when I do, I prepare well. Knowing I’ll likely be stopped by TSA, I arrive at the airport at least two hours early.
I bag anything that might resemble liquid (including my tube of hand cream and my throat spray) into Ziploc baggies. I wear slip-on sandals regardless of what climate I’m flying into because they’re easy to slide off and put on the conveyer belt at security. (Have you ever been in line at TSA and the person in front of you is wearing lace-up knee-high boots? I have and it’s grueling.)
I try to be minimal with my jewelry. I try not to look suspicious or unruly.
And yet, I’ve had my (rather expensive) face lotion confiscated, as well as more vials of perfume than I can remember. I’ve had to remove all my jewelry, including plastic earrings. One time, they even took my liquid Pepto- Bismol after I had put it in a three-ounce container. Not a pleasant experience for someone who is prone to motion sickness.
I get why it’s important, trust I’ve always been a nervous flier — I don’t call airplanes claustrophobic, airless, metal tubes that hurl across the sky for nothing. After 9/11, it took years for me to venture onto an aircraft. But as talk show host John Oliver famously said, “One failed attempt at a shoe bomb, and we all have to take our shoes off at the airport, yet there’s been 31 school shootings since Columbine and there’s been no change in the regulation of guns.”
I used to wear my hair in a loose bun to the airport, but after having my bun picked apart by uniformed women wearing green rubber gloves, I now wear my hair down and put it up after passing through security.
I’ve learned other tips — my stepsister gave me an Alex and Ani bracelet that I love, but one TSA agent helpfully told me that the brand sets off the metal detector every time. And since I do have a few face creams and other toiletries, I usually check my bags these days rather than bother with a carry-on.
But a couple of weeks ago, before a flight out of Punta Gorda Airport, I failed my security check on all fronts.
I was extra-nervous that it was my first time flying out of the little airport. My husband and I were on our way to a wedding in Tennessee, and we were running late for the flight.
First, I walked through the metal detector with my Alex and Ani bracelet and set it off. I removed it, and something (maybe my watch) set it off again. I took off the watch and my gold stud earrings. I walked through again and it beeped loudly. “Sorry,” said the TSA agent, “if it goes off three times in a row, we have to do a pat down. Would you like to go into a private room?”
“Um, NO,” I said vehemently. If I was going to get patted, it would be for God and the whole world to see.
It was actually more of a rub down and felt pretty icky. She went from waist to ankles and then had me do a lunge (I hate lunges at the gym, so I certainly don’t enjoy them in airports), so that she could access “the groin area.” When it was over, I never wanted a vodka and soda so badly in my entire life, but instead, I was sent to the area where my backpack was being searched. When they found the offending, unopened 6-ounce bottle of ZzzQuil and went to test it, I just told the agent to toss it. Our plane was boarding and at that point, a cocktail was more important to me than my over-the-counter asleep aid.
I refuse to bow to paranoia and assume I’m on some sort of TSA list, but next time I go to the airport, I will be unadorned and wearing active wear — just in case lunges are required. ¦
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