Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Home. Sweet. Home.

Can I tell you how good it is to be home. Today was, well....

I woke up at 6:43 (I don't like multiples of five or even numbers and I'm crazy) and got up, dressed, ate breakfast, packed and headed off to the airport. After getting into a tizzy with the rental car lady (the same lady who helped me three days previously at 11:57 p.m.), I dropped off my luggage, grabbed my ticket and headed to the security gate. I pulled out my laptop like I always do...I had my ID and boarding pass ready...I removed my shoes. I was ready to go. I load my stuff into the x-ray machine and I step through the metal detector. No problem. Then, this light starts flashing above the computer that reads the x-ray machine. Big, burly Officer Biceps steps out in front of me and blocks my way. The x-ray guy nods to him and Biceps says, "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step this way," as he motions with his hand. I'm like, "Uh, okay." I assume it's a standard random screening. So, he grabs two other officers, both women, and they lead me to a separate area, sectioned off by one of those divider curtains. They grab my stuff off the conveyer belt and have me sit down. They dump all of my stuff all over this counter and start rummaging through everything. One of the ladies asks me, "Ma'am, what is your final destination today?" And I tell her. "What was the purpose of your visit here in Virginia?" I tell her it was business. "What type of work do you do?" I say I have a freelance company and I do graphic design. She asked a few more random questions while Biceps and the other gal keep looking through my stuff. 

Then, they ask me to stand up and hold out my hands, which are now sweaty. They swab my hands with these cotton disc looking things. Then, they swab my face and feet (I had removed my socks by this point). They run a wand over my entire body and the other lady runs her gloved fingers through my hair, looking for who knows what. Lice, maybe? They ask me to sit back down and they radio in their supervisor. He comes along and they huddle together and chat...Biceps unlocks his gun, but keeps it in his holster. They grab up my stuff and ask me to follow them to a room off of the security checkpoint. I sit down. By this point, I'm wondering if it would be a good idea to ask if I can call someone, but I was afraid they would take that to be a threatening move on my part, so I kept my mouth shut. I can literally feel tears welling up and I'm trying not to look too freaked out. I had to show them any ID I had with me, I had to explain everything I had in my backpack and purse. I'm sitting in my chair, shoeless, hair disheveled, sweat pouring down my face. I'm sure I was breathtaking. 

Macho Man (the supervisor) sits across from me while the others look on. 

"Ma'am, do you realize you are carrying 8 of the 11 main elements required to manufacture a bomb?" 

"WHAT? I had no idea. It's just computer stuff. I'm a graphic des-"

He abruptly raises his hand..."I don't care what you are. I find it hard to believe that someone would just happen to have these items all in one place."

"Sir, I promise...I had no idea. If I could just call someone." 

"That won't be necessary. We've called in a TSA agent and we're going to hand over the situation to him, so you just sit tight." 

So, I did start crying when he said that. They all left the room, but left the door cracked while they stood outside. I'm as white as the floor my chair is on. I can't feel my legs. I'm totally panicking. I'm about to miss my flight. I just want to go home. I was in there for an eternity. When the TSA agent finally arrives, he walks in and sits down across from me. But then, he reaches down under the table and starts pulling my leg, just like I'm pulling yours. 

I love April Fool's. Hope you all had a great one! I'm sure not everybody bought that ridonk story, but I really DID get screened twice by TSA today and I'm like, "Come ON! Do I look like I'm going to do anything?" But, it does make me feel safe that they screen even the normal folks. 

1 comment:

I like your comments.
Mom, keep it clean.
Have a fabtastic day!