what not to do at an airport

Oh my goodness I give up. I used to be so good at writing. I not only kept up on this but I also kept my own journal. Now when my great great grandchildren want to write a story about my life (when I've become famous for... something) there will be this great big blank space. No info. And someday, when I'm old and have lost much of my memory and have received the family gift of dementia, all this will be a mystery even to myself.

I can't even begin to catch up on all that's been missed. But I can tell a good story. Well, it's not that good, but my unemployed life this month hasn't been all that story-worthy.

So the end of the summer job couldn't come soon enough. Working as an interpreter ranger at Mesa Verde was really a cool opportunity, but completely exhausting... And I was so ready to see my family again. So I drove down to Tucson and visited my aunt and uncle there (I can't be west of the Mississippi without a visit to the Sonoran desert). I left my car there to trash up their yard like ours back in Ohio that they like to make fun of. And I flew home to save time, money, and to skip out on the risk of wrecking my car again.

Despite warnings from frequent fliers who say that TSA loves to harass people carrying backpacks, I packed my backpack with all the items I thought I'd need for a month in Ohio. That basically was a tshirt, a pair of jeans, a jacket, and some toiletries (which I carefully studied up on and packed in their cute little quart sized bag). So I filled the rest of the space in my pack with crap I wouldn't need in Utah. The pack was completely filled. I dared not open it after everything was squeezed in.

Arrived at the airport and they asked if I'd like to check my giant piece of luggage. I said no, I would not be paying 15 extra dollars just to check one bag. That's a load of crap. So at security, I plopped the pack next to the x-ray machine and watched the pilot and flight attendents in front of me empty their pockets, pull out their toiletries bags, slip off their shoes, and smoothly walk by the TSA cops. I turned to the guy behind me and asked if he thought I'd need to do all that. He forced a smile and gave me a look like, "Aww, this is her first time flying."

I obediently took off my shoes. But I didn't dare open that bag.

MISTAKE #1
I smiled back at the man behind me, pointed at my bulging backpack, and announced "I hope they don't search that bag. It's going to explode!"

Yikes. The smile behind me turned to a frown. "Uh, that's not something you say here." Shoot! I didn't even mean that at all! I quickly tensed up, waiting for the armed guard to come tackle me to the ground. Luckily, they must not have heard me, though the concerned passengers around me did. I apologized.

MISTAKE #2
I made it through the walk-thru thingy for the first time ever. I usually have a surprise metal object attached to me or in my pockets that I forgot about. And I stood and watched my bag go through. The lady screening the machine suddenly got a look of horror on her face. She called another worker over. He got a look of fear on his face too. He took out my pack and called out, "Whose bag is this? I'm sending it through again." So I watched them call another guy over and all three of them had these bewildered, fearful expressions as my bag went through the machine.

I scanned my own mind to try to figure out what I had packed days before and prayed to god they wouldn't choose to unpack everything right there before I had to get to my flight.

An irritated looking TSA guy comes over with my pack. Please don't open my pack... "I'm going to be opening your pack and take a peak inside," he said. He proceeded to pull out every single item and I have to admit, I was kind of proud to watch the clown-car-like happenings going on with my stuff. I'm a pretty good packer I think. He huffed and puffed and I swear I saw him roll his eyes. "Is there some reason why you put a bunch of books at the bottom?" I said, "It's kind of a rule of a backpack. I wouldn't want all that weight at the top." I sighed back.

And then he found it. A strange metalic box, wrapped in tissue paper and newspaper, placed carefully inside of a cardboard box, taped shut with duct tape, and cushioned with all my clothes around it. Looking back now, I guess I see the suspiciousness of it all. Apparently, days before I left, I had carefully packed a computer hard drive and totally forgot about it (as it was camoflauged within my shirt, socks, and underwear).

I'm no expert on bombs. But, I guess that's the sort of thing that could look like one.

The TSA guy now was really huffing and puffing (I had just wasted like 5 minutes of his time which could have been spent frisking down some woman). He slid me my bag. "You can repack now. And, I'll have to confiscate your toothpaste."

Mistake #3
Don't pack toothpaste.