The worst seasonal activity, of course, is killing time in the holiday rush at the airport. I left my parents' house with the sunrise on Saturday. I divided wrapped latte mugs from my mom and other difficult-to-transport gifts between a carry-on bag and a check-in bag. My dad dropped me off at Dallas Love Field Airport at 6:45 a.m. for my 8:05 a.m. flight. I waited in line to check in my bag for almost 30 minutes, trying to convince myself that I wasn't impatient as I stood there. Finally, I escaped that line to wait in another line at the security checkpoint. I debated with myself as to whether it was cliche or pretentious for me to dwell on how those snaking, twisting, circling lines would belong in a modern adaptation of Dante's "Inferno."
BUT, then, something unexpected happened, interrupting my reverie. A TSA agent swabbed my hand and accused me of being a terrorist. I'd put lotion on my face and hands as part of my morning routine after washing my face. Somehow, my hand tested positive for a chemical (the agent didn't tell me what chemical), requiring further analysis. This TSA agent, according to his badge, Agent Brown, speculated that the chemical was related to bomb making. He pushed me around and shouted at me, treating me as his prisoner, in front of all of the other people waiting in line. The other airline customers didn't have anything better to do, so they all stared at us. Agent Brown took me to an empty area, where he continued to bark nonsensically at me, finally directing me to take off my boots and sit. I asked him where my carry-on bag was at one point. With a tilt of his head and a sneer, he hissed that he had my bag right there and the bag was the least of my concerns. I couldn't see my bag. I confess that I showed my irritation: "You've to got to be kidding. Are you going to make me miss my plane? Because you aren't an airline employee, can you help me get on another flight or how does that work? Usually airlines give vouchers when they cause you to miss a flight." With wide eyes, he yelled: "Keep your hands where I can see them Terrorist and shut up."
Agent Brown then lead me drill-sergeant-style in front of him. He puffed out his chest; he had me - 5'3" and under 100 pounds - under his authority. He took me into a private room and deposited me with two other TSA ladies. In my fear about missing my flight, I disregarded that bullies like to exert control. The one agent started telling me how she was going to do a special pat down. I interrupted her, saying that I knew she was going to be invasive but to just do whatever would make the search go faster. My focus on getting to my plane enraged her, inspiring her to yell about how she had to tell me what she was going to do and I couldn't interrupt her and some other unhinged nonsense... Maybe she felt like my concern for speed over privacy made me seem like I felt too in control? I decided to shut up like Agent Brown had ordered. The lady TSA agent forcefully stuck her hand inside of my bra. She even inserted her finger in the middle part of the bra between the cups and yanked it forward a few times. The other lady TSA agent searched my carry-on bag. She was polite and respectful. When she found the wasabi peanuts that I'd bought at Central Market, a great Texas grocery store chain, she commented that they taste great. I responded that the peanuts are much better than the peas. I told her that I like the crunchy coating on the peanuts. The touchy TSA agent looked irritated with the peanuts versus peas conversation and left to see how the chemical analysis was going. While she was gone, the bag-searching agent apologized for her co-worker's yelling. The apologetic agent called her co-worker "unprofessional" and her co-worker's demeanor "uncalled for."
Finally, the test results came back, resulting in an apology to me for the delay. The TSA agent had tossed even the fragile latte mugs from my mom haphazardly back into my bag. I didn't have the time, though, to organize my belongings. I at least tucked one mug in a t-shirt and hoped for the best. Immediately after TSA cleared me, I ran to my gate. My boarding group had just started filing on to the plane when I got there. So, yes, I made my flight.
I want to pass along this warning: lotions and soap can result in a preliminary positive to the stupid chemical swab that TSA is randomly performing on passengers. TSA will eventually catch the mistake, though. Regardless, for now, I'll avoid soap and lotion if I'm flying.
P.S. The first question my mom asked me when I told her about the TSA incident: "Did the mugs make it?" My mom's mugs didn't break.
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