Magic Wands and Flying Unicorns

So, it’s been some time since I have flown, since I’ve been subjected to the rigors of the post 911 stringent security measures.  In fact, it was several years ago on a trip to NJ where I was fortunate enough to discover the dubious perks my new status as the bionic woman garnered me. 

It was on the return flight, just becoming better acquainted with my newly installed parts, that I realized the attention they would bring me.  Funny, that part of my anatomy never got me that much attention before.  This could be interesting, I remember thinking.

The alarms went off as I merely approached the scanner and the security officers had jumped to attention.  Despite the fact that I had already removed my shoes, glasses, belt, jacket, scarf, jewelry, and displayed the entire contents of my life contained in a carry on bag and a purse at that point they grimly escorted me to a side room, if you can call a plexiglass fishbowl such, and proceeded to determine the extent of my perfidy.  I was beginning to wonder where the bamboo splinters were.

So I wasn’t terribly surprised this time as I approached the security checkpoint with Sophia at the airport in Nashville, that the sensor began buzzing and vibrating as I approached and the nervous security guards converged on the lane. I could feel the frustrated tension of the anxious passengers behind me as I held up my hands in a modified internationally recognized sign of surrender, explained my condition, and that I was merely escorting my daughter to her gate.

“Wish you would’ve told me that sooner!” the uniformed agent blustered. Then, what? They would have waived me through with their magic wand?  Invited me to leap over the entire crowd waiting to get through security on their pink flying unicorn?

Once a female had been secured to "assist", with what I've not determined, nothing went undisturbed.  I’m still trying to figure that verbiage out, since I didn't need help with anything.  

And this time there was no privacy of the fishbowl. No, I stood spread eagle while a panel of judges determined my sentence and Sophia watched casually from afar in amusement. Remind me to discuss that with her later. In her defense, the young woman did offer to move the party off to the side, a suggestion I waived away.

“I’m a nurse,” I said, “we stick people with sharp of objects in unfortunate places all day long. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you can do here that’s more fun than that. Just do what you gotta do.” She gulped slightly and stepped back, and Sophia choked ungraciously and pretended she was traveling alone.

Regaining her composure, the young woman continued her inspection, because I truly could be hiding something in my hair, and one can never be too careful.  And my waistband, well, who knew the possibilities could be so nefarious.  Of course, the hem of my jeans were a definite possibility.  And as the "assist" started to stand, I gingerly inquired as to whether she had checked between my toes yet.  She looked up at me quizzically, wondering how to do that with my socks on.  I suppose even security has its limitations.

I'm inclined to agree with another traveler's opinion on the matter.  Next time, I'm going to the airport naked and getting dressed on the other side of security. And I won’t have to stand in any lines, I’m thinking, or call in any favors from the magic unicorns!