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Security




As I may have mentioned, my wife and I just got back from a once in a lifetime trip to Europe. Anyone who travels nowadays has the joys of dealing with airport security (not that I begrudge airport security. We all have our jobs to do, and it helps keep us safe. That doesn’t mean I have to like going through it). We went through a security line of some sort or another no less than eight times on this trip. That’s not counting the little scanners in stores and miscellaneous places. The following is the security adventure we went through at Edinburg Airport:

First you have to stand in line waiting for your chance to go through the line. When it comes your turn, they want you to move it, move it, move it! I got a bin for my carry-on suitcase and another for my backpack, coat, and hat. They told me to put my passport in the bin as well. I was about to step away when I realized I still had my cell phone in my pocket. I quickly put it in my wife’s bin with her purse. She went through the scanner okay. But not so for me. “Take your shoes off and go through the red line,” an officer told me. I realized I had forgot about my watch, so I took that off. I got in the “red” line. Meanwhile my wife was through and had to gather up all her stuff and mine. I could see her, but she didn’t see me, and I could not tell her where I was. I hoped she wouldn’t worry. I had to wait behind several people going through this larger scanner. There was an old lady with a cane that had to go through three or four times before she got the all clear. I finally made it through the other scanner okay and found my wife who told me my suitcase didn’t pass. It had been shunted off to another line. She told me to watch all the rest of our stuff while she dealt with the errant bag. One of the workers went through my bag, took all the lotions, and toothpaste and similar stuff and put them in a plastic bag. I could almost hear him going, “tsk, tsk.” Yes, I should have known these items needed to be put in a plastic bag, but this was like our fourth security check, and no one had said anything about it until now.
They checked everything and then released us. Then my wife said, “I don’t know where my passport is.” Slightly panicked, we found a seat and she went through her purse. They had rushed us through so fast and she had been frantically collecting our things, and she didn’t remember. Then she found it. Whew! She looked up at me and said, “where is your passport?” I said it was in the bin with the backpack, but she did not remember picking it up. A bit more panic. She looked through her purse. No dice. I went to one of the attendants and told him I was missing my passport. From the expression on his face I could tell he considered this a very big deal. That was a good thing, because it meant he was taking it seriously. It was also a bad thing because . . . this was a very big deal. He asked the other officers if a passport had been found. When they said no, he went off down the line, looking. Just about the time he got completely out of earshot, my wife found it (in her purse). I found another attendant to tell the first that we had found it. Everyone was relieved.  I went back to my wife. She said, “here is yours with your boarding pass, but where is my boarding pass?” Yet more panic, but by now I was beginning to have confidence that she would find it in her purse. We took a moment to sit down. More frantic searching, and then she did find it (yes, in her purse). Whew! Finally we could settle down, Heart rates gradually returned to normal.

My wife had bought a new large purse for this trip which was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because she could stuff lots of random things in it, especially when we were trying to free up our hands. A curse because, well, as you have seen, needful items could disappear into the 5th dimension for a while, only to reappear later leaving her red-faced.

As I said, I recognize that security is a necessary part of the world we live in. I can only hope that it will get better someday. But I do have respect for TSA workers. Like one woman I saw with a loud booming voice who could make herself heard over the din of the airport, and who was smiling, helpful, and encouraging even though you know she had to have had her share of rude and unruly passengers that day. You madam, are a rock star.

(My novel Star Liner, is now available in paperback or as an e-book through Amazon, or the other usual online sources)

Star Liner

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