Jackie Wells-Fauth
Before I say too much here, allow me to state that I understand the very serious purpose of security checks at the airport. I am grateful for the caution that is used to keep me safe.
Having said that, I must tell you that security lines at the airport make me frozen with fear. I don’t know why. I’m not trying to smuggle in a weapon; I don’t plan to hijack the plane or blow it up (I’m not keen on killing myself). But suddenly, when I look into the eyes of a security officer at the airport, I remember that I still have that breath mint, wrapped in crinkly paper, stuck in the pocket of my jeans. It came from Amsterdam, and here I am, trying to get into Paris. What if it shows up in X-ray and they detain me for unlawful transport of oral deodorants???????!!!!!!
I think it’s safe to say that authority of any kind turns me into a dithering idiot and on most good days, I don’t have all that far to go to get there. I don’t need a lady eying me up and down as she puts on her plastic gloves and asks me if I want to step into a private room. No I do not! Whatever we’re going to do, we’re going to do in front of everyone! Or upon reflection, maybe not!
Generally, I am not thinking about these security lines when I get ready to go on a trip. And it seems like every time I go through one, either I wore the shirt with the studs decorating the shoulders, or I brought home a bag of trinkets in a souvenir bag that has what they described as a “suspicious odor.” I don’t tell them that the studs are really cheap plastic and the souvenir bag smells funny because it spent the night before sitting on my smelly sneakers. It’s better not to argue; just let them pat down those plastic studs or run a security wand through the souvenirs and discover there is really nothing lethal on the Paddington Bear I was bringing my grandson!
The X-ray machines are always a treat. I once heard a lady tell a TSA officer at the Denver airport as she stepped into the security X-ray, “Oh good, I’m overdue for my mammogram!” The officer was clearly not amused and so I swallowed my laugh before it could get out and meekly entered the machine without any smart comments about needing copies for my Christmas cards! The first thing you are told is not to make jokes. Unfortunately, when I am nervous, jokes just fall out of my mouth and they are wasted on people who aren’t allowed to have a sense of humor on the job.
I once set off the security alarms with a briefcase in the JFK in New York. With four security officers standing and staring at me, I went completely blank. I couldn’t remember the combination to the briefcase. I tried three times to get it right and by the time I finally got it open, even I wondered if I was smuggling in something lethal! It turned out that the marble statuette I had gotten my mother-in-law looked suspicious to the machine, but when they discovered I couldn’t shoot bullets out of it, they gave it back and left me alone to try and re-lock my briefcase with my trembling fingers!
I also get rattled when I am trying to put all my belongings into the little bins. At the Dublin airport, I needed to take off my jacket and give them the bag I had around my neck. Unfortunately, the bag was over the jacket, so when I tried to take the jacket off first, I nearly hung myself. The security fellow said with a heavy Irish accent, “Off in reverse of how they went on, Love!” I was so rattled by the accent that I asked, “Do you want anything else off?” It’s the first time I ever accidentally propositioned a security officer, but he was very nice and just shook his head.
I have been traveling with a cane for the past couple of years because I need it for stairs. It’s a pain in a security line, though, because everyone has a different procedure for how to handle it. In the Paris security line, they took it away from me completely and ran it through a special x-ray machine. I got through everything and had the rest of my hand luggage, but the cane never appeared. I asked a couple of the officers, but they didn’t know what happened to it. Finally, I saw it sitting, leaned up against a wall. Were they done with it? I don’t know. I simply grabbed it and, resisting the impulse to run like I’d just robbed the bank, I walked on down the hallway to my gate. My face hasn’t appeared on any international terrorist wanted posters for illegal pilfering of a cane, so I think I’m fine!
Okay, now I’ve had my fun and the security officers have had theirs, so I can end this little saga. And the next time I travel…I’m taking a bike!
dropsinthewell 