BUCKING THE SYSTEM

I was in no mood to remove my shoes. I mean, they DID say “recommend” removing your shoes, but they didn’t say it was a requirement. I watched all the people in line before me and with only one exception, everyone took of their shoes. I noticed an airline pilot didn’t. That was good enough for me. His shoes made it through and they were black dress shoes. I had on sneakers and a bad attitude from leaving Andy.

After the TSA agent once again announced the ‘recommended’ shoe removal, I told the guy in front of me that I was bucking the system and wasn’t taking off my shoes. Yeah, you know where this story is headed.

The TSA agent waved me up to the metal detector area and stopped me. “Let me see the sides of your shoes,” she said. I showed her. She told me to remove them so I asked her why. “The soles are too thick. It will require a manual search.” Well, of course that steamed me. I asked her, “Why recommend shoe removal? Why not just require it?”

I angrily put the sneakers on the conveyer belt and passed through the metal detector. No problem. I went over to get my shoes, laptop, and bag. I got the shoes and the laptop but no bag. Then I saw a TSA agent holding a black bag that looked like mine. He was asking another passenger about it. The passenger seemed befuddled and with good reason. It was my bag. I told the agent so. He told me the bag required further review and told me not to touch anything. This is what’s called getting even for the shoe incident.

Now get this. This is the fourth time the bag has gone through TSA security in the past two weeks with all my back-and-forth trips to Phoenix. It had never been searched and I told the agent about it. He basically ignored me and asked me if I was aware of any sharp objects that were in the bag. Without even thinking, I naturally said no. So he searched each compartment, showing the entire airport my worldly possessions. iPod, cell phone, sweet n lo packets, ear plugs, nasal spray, Eggo cereal, Werther’s candy, bottle of water. All the essentials.

To me, I was thinking they had already x-rayed the bag so the agent must know where the trouble was. Yet he kept up the dramatic show until he finally whipped out my key chain. Uh-oh. My short-term memory forgot about the mini Swiss Army pocket knife tool. Busted. The agent told me he had to confiscate the illegal carry-on item unless I knew someone at the terminal who could have taken it or unless I mailed it to myself for $2 while filling out a mountain of paperwork.

Then another agent showed up. I complained to both of them that I thought the rules had changed and that the little pocket knives were now acceptable. The new lady agent sternly told me that the rules HAD changed, but the knife was still prohibited. My disposition got worse. “Take it,” I said. “Take the biiiig imposing weapon!” Goodbye pocket knife. Yep, I asked for it and I got it. It just goes to show you, you still can’t fight city hall.