They say you can never go Home...

Soldiers of Sparta were allowed to return home after lost battles, only if carried dead upon their shields. I'm convinced this is a more practical and time-saving way to go about it.

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Burbank, California

I spent late Friday, the weekend, and Monday in California, after hitting Lost Vagus for business purposes. The reasons for the visit to Kalifornia were variegated and multifaceted and a lot of other SAT level words that are employed here only to obfuscate the reasons for my going. Tuesday was time to go home, and so accordingly, I turned myself into the Burbank Airport at early hours, for my flight back to the east coast.

I have a semi-sordid history of finding myself confounded at various security checkpoints around this great nation. Actually, confounded might be too vague and at the risk of being such, I think it necessary to broaden out that description with other terms. Like, “deeply humiliated”, “strip search”, “cavity search.” Just to name a few.

Okay, I'm kidding about the cavity search. And about the strip search too, I guess. The deeply humiliated part--don’t ask me to explain that now. Someday, if I’m brave enough, I will share with the Internet how I was outed at Security by several of Delta's Finest. Today is not that day however.

But regardless and notwithstanding, the time had come for me to voluntarily turn over my luggage to a TSA agent, so that my unlaundered briefs might be probed, ostensibly for trace evidence of biological residues that might-could possibly be converted into weapons of mass destruction. (Their confidence in this likelihood is not at all flattering. Also, why not hire a beagle to do this? It’s very hard to pack all that crap in there without having someone go and bugger it all up right before the baggage crew starts using my luggage as batting practice. Hey! I even have a Nervous Beagle who needs a job and might be interested in volunteering her time for this. In fact, I think most beagles are familiar with a myriad of crotch sniffing exercises, if my dog is any representative example. So really, what is the damned reason for this pawing and mulling over my clothes, unless these employees of TSA are just convicted perverts in a work release program?)


As my luggage is put onto the examination table, the proverbial stirrups adjusted and the speculum warmed, the TSA guy looks me in the eyes and says,

“We don’t do black bags on Mondays.”

Me: (Small cough). Excuse me?

TSA agent: (More insistent tone) We don’t do black bags on Mondays.

Me: Ha. Ha. Well, you see, sir, there was a dearth of purple bags, and I really don’t want any trouble. Ha. Ha.

TSA representative: (Looks at me like I’ve contracted a mild case of mental retardation) Think about it! WE don’t do BLACK BAGS on MONDAYS.

Me: (Thinking, to self). Do? What is this “DOING” Shit? Does “doing” constitute something other than pawing through my stuff?

Me: (pondering further) Surely, by “doing”, he isn’t making reference to any sort of humping of my black Samsonite Luggage, now, is he? I mean, it really is quite attractive, even if he’s not into the color. And it bulges quite suggestively, too. Hmm.

Me: (pondering even further). Dammit! I should think my stuff will be thoroughly screwed anyway, what with it being on Southwest and all. God, this is SO unfair!

Me: (coming to senses; arranges features into sheepish grin to avoid any trouble.)

TSA jokester: What day is it today?

Me: (Thinking) Not my lucky day?

Me: (Thinking) The day you don’t hump black bags, apparently?

Me: (Thinking) The day that MTV is filming “
Boiling Points” at Burbank Airport, and I'm being filmed right now?

Me: Tuesday?

Me: (Relieved, yet supremely irritated): OH! Not Monday! Ha. Ha. I get it. Ha. Ha. (more weak laughter).

TSA: (proceeds to swab my luggage down for any evidence of my dangerous bodily fluids or genetic material, all the while chortling). That joke always gets the real uptight ones! HA!

Me: Uptight! Ha! Yeah. Maybe I should get some Quaaludes out of that suitcase before you zip it back up. Ha!