Does this mean you’re home now? Call me when you get a chance.

I don’t think you understand just how much luck it will take. Don’t hold yourself to such high standards, dear Claudia. That way only leads to disappointment (alas, alack, amiss).

Wish me luck….

Those are great stories. The first reminds me of a scene in AMERICAN IDLE by Alesia Holliday. She has a heroine with a vibrator in her suitcase (I can’t remember what it was doing there, not even sure it was hers) and of course she was the one who got stopped.

Claudia’s story about the rocks in her bra is only one of four or five airport horror stories that befell within a month or so. I just didn’t tell the others. Let’s just say you and Claudia should never go traveling together…

Three true stories of my many airport horror stories…

#1- Keep in mind this was PRE 9/11.

My husband and I were headed out on our second honeymoon (really…our first, since we never had a real honeymoon the first time around, but I digress). That morning the airline had instituted a new computer program, and saying it was a Murphy nightmare would be the understatement of the century. We lined up with everyone else, and about twenty minutes later (having not moved one step closer to the counter), a guy came down the line asking for anyone who had flights before 10 am to step out and come with him. Ours was a 9:30 (and it was 8:30) and we did. He got us boarding passes and told us we’d all have to gate check our luggage.

Okay… So, off we headed to security. As we were stripping off shoes, I suddenly realized this was a HONEYMOON trip. You can guess what sorts of joys and delights were in the suitcase. Among them…fur-lined cuffs, a vibrator, edible lotions, and probably something more embarrassing than that, if memory serves. We shared one of those hopeless looks and prayed for a security guy with a sense of humor.

Luckily we got one, but he made it CLEAR what was in there when he asked if it was a honeymoon trip…his idea of a joke, I guess. I replied something along the lines of, “We didn’t expect to have to gate check this, but the computer system…” He laughed and said he’d forego the hand exam…oh and “Have a good time, ma’am.”

#2- On the way back on that same trip… I couldn’t get a break. I’ve been stopped by security that thought my inhaler was a pepper spray container…that wanted to see my camera turn on…and all manner of other things, but…

My husband had bought me a lovely silver and pewter goblet at Medieval Times in FL, and I had taken it carry on, because it was expensive. So, there I am, waiting for my bag to come out the other end of x-ray, and I’m suddenly surrounded by a half dozen airport security guards. It seems (good information for future use) that the goblet looks like a pipe bomb on the x-ray machine. I may do that one again just to scramble them. Sigh… It was nerve wracking the first time, but it could be incredibly funny today.

#3- Last but not least… Two years ago, I was headed out to EPICon…a normal yearly thing for me. I got to the airport at 4 am for a 5:30 flight, which meant half the staff was tired and all were cranky. Good for them. I checked in with the guy who compares ID against ticket and stood in the lovely line for the x-ray and metal detector.

My things went through the x-ray, and I stepped through the metal detector and handed off my ticket…at which point, the guy INSISTED I’d bypassed the ID check. I assured him that I had done it. He replied that the ticket was marked incorrectly, so I’d HAD to have done it myself and bypassed the booth. How? God knows, since the entire security area is blocked off with walls and the only way in is past the booth. But…

He demanded I show my ID, and I pointed to the x-ray machine. They let me get my ID…JUST my ID, and I was marched back to the booth by two security guys. Thankfully, the booth guy not only remembered me but admitted it was his first day on duty after a change of how they marked them, so he forgot to use the new format. DUH! There I was, having nightmares of the no fly list and missing the convention, where I was president AND presenting classes…and even of jail, if the guy claimed he’d never seen me before.

Now comes the best part. Not only did the guy who’d accused me NEVER apologize… I’d been through the metal detector once. They marched me back and made me do it again. Why? I was in their “custody” the entire time from the last step through until the second. When did I have time to pick up anything I didn’t have the first time…besides my ID?

Oh, and don’t get me started on Morgan Hawke and the chocolate penis…or being stopped for carrying hand sanitizer two days after watching NIM’S ISLAND. Those three are just my favorites.

Brenna

Melanie, LOL at the puking story. Horrible when you’re 8, though. But at least it’s acceptable. When you’re 38? Not so much.

Donnell, my buddy Yolanda can vouch for me that there IS a real Claudia – and her real name doesn’t start with a C. No, it’s not me, LOL.

Gail, thanks for coming by again.