After a whirlwind trip down south, I’m back–which is lucky considering I almost didn’t make it through security at DCA.
Personally, I think I’m a pretty good traveler. I’m careful to follow the 3oz rule, I always disrobe before going through security and I make sure any loaded weapons are hidden in my traveling companion’s bag. Well so much for thinking it all through…
I arrived at the airport in a pair of slip-on shoes, a sundress and a denim jacket. Quite frankly, I was beyond pleased with my apparent ability to be one step ahead of the system. No doubt I would go flying through the metal detector while everyone else floundered around with shoe laces, belt buckles, and (heaven forbid) the laptop they forgot to TAKE OUT OF THE BAG.
With jacket and shoes removed, I zip through. ” BZZZZZZZZZZZ.”
“Ma’am, you’re going to have to step back through.”
“Are you wearing a hairpin?”
A hairpin? Look at my head. I’m sporting Peppermint Patty circa 1975. There is no hairpin.
“Perhaps it’s your watch.”
I could almost buy that. I mean, forget the fact that I chose it because it was especially dainty and highly unlikely to set off a metal detector…this is DCA and they could probably detect the metal piece from your braces–you know, the one you inadvertently swallowed in the 6th grade when you weren’t supposed to be eating jawbreakers but you did anyway. No doubt, your mother said it’d stay in your stomach forever…along with the watermelon seeds and the chewing gum. I get a bellyache just thinking about it.
As it turns out, it wasn’t my watch.
And at this point the woman behind me counters in a loud voice, “It’s probably your UNDER WIRE BRA”
Nice try, Lucy, ‘cept I’m not wearing a bra! And yes, I do realize this public pronouncement would mortify my mother. As would the knowledge my panties didn’t match. Thankfully, she was spared the public humiliation of identifying me by my drawers.
I, however, was not spared the public humiliation of a complete body search.
No doubt, I looked like a criminal. Braless and bare-footed in a Lily Pulitzer sundress… a sundress, I might add, with metal ribbing. Yep, you read that right. Metal ribbing. The kind a magnetometer’s wet dream is made of. You have to wonder what the person who designed it was thinking…I’m willing to bet they weren’t thinking about catching a plane.
What do they say about the best laid plans?