Safe from Terrorism & Logic

Mark and I flew out of the Denver airport a few weeks ago. As we checked our bags, I asked what items might be the contraband du-jour so I'd know what to ditch from my carry-ons. I thought to check my executive lighter (it's titanium and lights up when you lift the top, very slick) and of course I remembered to check my nail-clipper-of-death.

All set, we headed for the security checkpoint. In line we were greeted by a dynamic lightboard informing us that liquids, gels, etc. had to be removed from purses or bags and placed in a bin and sealed in plastic bags. It also stated that any liquids or gels in quantities higher than 3oz were not allowed. I grabbed a bin early so as not to hold up the line. And although I figured I was being more compliant than necessary, I took every item of makeup out of my handbag and placed it out in the open in my bin. I didn't want any trouble. We then lined up to go through security, dutifully took off our shoes and gave our bins a shove down the little assembly line.

In line Mark warned me not to give them any lip. I've been known to shoot off my mouth when confronted with irrational policy seasoned with injustice. It's my least favorite combination platter. So I agreed, but I didn't mention that my agreement was based on the condition that they not give me any problems. I'd play by their rules and they had better leave me alone. Those conditions met, no lip.

The security guy assisting the bins pointed to my pile of cosmetics and warned, "Next time these need to be sealed in a plastic bag, alright?" giving me the nod. "Sure," I told him, annoyed, thinking how lovely that I'm already getting hassled and I've been such a good little Nazi. My next bin approached the scanner and he asked, "There a laptop in here, ma'am?" "No," I said, "It's my camera equipment." "Is it a video camera?" "No - it's a still camera." "Okay," in a tone that told me I had been warned. About what, I have no idea.

I walked through the metal detector and as I waited for my bins to come back out I noticed a cute blonde woman having an altercation with a security guy at the end of the line. He was on a diatribe and gesturing with her half-full bottle of perfume. Although it clearly didn't contain the verboten 3oz, the security guy told her that the bottle was shaped wrong and he was going to have to confiscate it. He also wanted to cart off with her collection of MAC makeup, which is a small fortune, not to mention that it's powder, not liquid or gel. She was livid, talking about being a chemistry teacher and viscosity, but the bumbling Neanderthal would hear nothing of it. He was on a power trip - saving the world from MAC cosmetics and perfume.

As I was watching all this, I was thinking that we had plenty of time, maybe I should offer to exit security and take her stuff and mail it for her. Then from behind me I heard, "Weheheell, what do we have here?" The security guy had pulled a jar of lotion from my backpack. Confused, I said, "It's my lotion." I made a move toward him and he backed up and challenged me with a raised eyebrow, "I can't let this out of my hands." 

The lotion scrimmage caught the attention of the chemistry teacher. Since she had already decided to send her boyfriend out of the secured area to mail her perfume and cosmetics, she said "I'll mail her lotion too," giving the Neanderthal the evil eye.  Now there's a woman after my own heart. So I gave her my address and chatted a bit while she waited for her boyfriend's return.