Adding to the two times I mistakenly took a box-cutter aboard a plane two months after 9/11: I flew out to LAX on Monday, and came home on the red-eye Wednesday night. Anyways, it’s the second time I’ve gone cross-country in two weeks, and the third such trip I’ve taken this year. At what point does “elevated” cease being elevated and become the new “normal”?
More importantly, though, the TSA didn’t see the aerosol bottle of Axe deodorant spray in my carry on bag – outbound or inbound. It might’ve been mace, and I could’ve been a terrorist. So that makes at least four airplanes that were “safe” only post hoc. In reality, they weren’t safe at all! The only reason they weren’t turned into a Boeing Missile is because we were fortunate enough to not have a fucking terrorist on board!
Also, what’s the point of putting toiletry items in a clear ziploc bag to scan separately, when the equipment they have can fucking see through anything? And is there a practical reason for “only one ziploc per person?” How about the 3oz size limit? Is there anything that’s so dangerous at 6 or 7oz that is rendered inert and harmless below a magical threshold of 3oz? I doubt it.
I overheard one model-esque blonde ask the Screener while removing her wedge sandals, “When is this going to end?”
To which the Screener responded, “Never.”
I could’ve told you that, darling.
+++
On a lighter note: Nobody should have to feel your fat for 5 hours. If you’re so fat (and you were probably 350 pounds) that your love handles spill over the arm-rest in coach, you should be forced to purchase a full-price, first-class ticket or purchase two coach seats.
Also, if you have kids that you can’t control: Don’t take them on a fucking airplane. There is no reason for your kindergartener to be crying like a little bitch for 4 hours. Christ, he was screaming bloody murder and the parents did nothing. If he wants to cry, give him something to cry about, like a belt, or the back of your hand. When everyone within 7 rows of you is giving you the evil eye, it’s time to beat your kids, OK?
Has anyone with an exit row seat ever given up that seat because they felt they were physically incapable of performing exit-row duties? More importantly, has anyone ever had to perform exit row duties, and lived to tell about it? Has a 757 ever made an emergency water landing?
