Tinkerings

There, I said it.  I actually communicated the “p” word.  Word meanings are there for a reason, and today I needed that one to get as close to describing my feelings of utter astonishment, bewilderment, anguish, anger, frustration, and the sudden realization of what total stupidity does for society.

Yes, I am back at the Chattanooga airport after spending nearly 5 hours here yesterday waiting for a flight that was ultimately canceled, spending nearly 45 minutes in line to finally get a new flight on another airline with a layover in a different city.  But the weather problems in Dallas didn’t frustrate me that much.  Missing the Discovery Pre-Conference event at the Denver Zoo today is heartbreaking, but not this frustrating.  I’m not even upset that the airport bookstore, restaurant, and snack shop are all closed until almost time for my flight to board.

No, I’m talking about the stupidity of airport security.

Those of you that follow me on Facebook probably already know how carefully I packed, unpacked, repacked, unpacked, and repacked yet again to get 5 days of clothing and technology needs down to two small carry on bags.  I was quite proud of myself.  Yesterday, I made it through security and only lost my can of shaving cream for being too large.  I could live with that.  I could even live with the frustration of taking my belt off and fearing I would resemble a sagging teenager before I could get it back on again.

But today….oh, today.

I smiled as they put all my belongings back through the x-ray machine.  I confidently told them they would find exactly what they found yesterday when pulled my backpack to search it.  I was nearly giddy as they started going through my toiletry bag.

That didn’t last long.

The security guard pulled out my bottles of Polo Black aftershave and cologne.  “The limit is 3.4 ounces,” he said.  “These are 4.2.”  My countenance suddenly changed to one of shock and awe.

“I can’t lose those today!” I cried.  “That’s over $100 to replace them!  They approved them yesterday!”  Alas, my arguments fell on deaf ears.

“You can check a bag if you like,” the nice man said quietly.  He’d seen it all before.  It was quickly evident he wasn’t getting any personal pleasure from inflicting this pain on people, but I wasn’t ready to accept that yet.

“I will check this bag,” I conceded. “But I have to tell you I am pissed about having to do this after clearing security once already.”

“Yes, sir,” he said stoically.  He wasn’t budging. “I can meet you back at the entrance to security and give you the bag there.”

So I’ve checked a bag.  I’ve lost the battle.  I’ve been trounced by security at the most rinky dink airport in the United States. And, yes, I’m pissed.

I may just ship everything back home by UPS before I face security on the return flight from Denver.