The Saga Begins

WEDNESDAY, JULY 18TH

So it’s Wednesday, right? Preview night at Comic-Con!

Except I’m not there.

I’m supposed to be in San Diego. Like, right now. My flight there last night was canceled due to inclement weather, which is reasonable except for the part where it rained in Philly for about 45 seconds, and my perception of rain is clearly the metric by which flight safety protocol should be measure.

Sure, fine, whatever.

Lexi has kindly driven me to the hairport where, for the first time ever, I’m having issue with the TSA. Like, a personal issue getting through security. Not a political issue. That’s always been there. #TheTSARepresentsThatTheTerroristsWon

I take off my shoes, I separate my electronics from everything else, I’ve taken off my necklace, belt, and everything. But this year, I hear the TSA agent say that “if you have any food, remove it from your bag and place it in a separate container.”

All right, that’s really stupid, but fortunately I’ve only brought a bag of chips to snack on. So I place it in the separate tray, wait forever as the highly competent agents forget how all of the genital-scanners work, and pass through. My shoes and wallet and such are waiting for me on the other side, but my backpack isn’t. How the hell did my backpack not stay with everything else? I’ve got some major cash in there for my cash-only hotel, and my first thought is that someone stole it.

I panic. And after I’ve ejected all of my bodily fluids into the nutsack-reader, I see a bunch of bags waiting behind the security equipment, including mine.

My backpack has been flagged as a security threat and needs to be searched.

And that’s not all! There are 5 or 6 bags ahead of mine and not a damn one of ‘em’s moving. The bag search folks are overwhelmed by a single family with like 6 small children and a bunch of backpacks full of candy.

If you ask me, they’re smart travelers. If you ask Security Theatre America, this family is a threat to the very concept of a free society.

I swear to god, this one agent stops to turn over each individual jelly bean as though one of them is a b*mb. I had to throw an asterisk in there because I’m writing this in the airport. Can’t say the b-word in the airport.

So there I am, a lil ball of stress while some agent is “watching” my backpack with a huge amount of paper currency in it while some OTHER agent rifles through a bunch of apparently-weaponized Skittles.

Finally they decide that a bag full snax are not going to hurt anybody and it’s time to rifle through mine.

TSA Agent: is this your bag?

Me: yes

TSA Agent: im going to search it now

Me: you already told me this

TSA Agent: is there anything sharp or explosive in this personal container?

Me: no

TSA Agent: im going to search it now.

Me: okay let’s go

TSA Agent: while I am searching your bag

Me: ohhhhhhhmyyyyyyyygodddddddd

TSA Agent: do not interrupt me. Do not reach in while I am looking in the bag

Me: I’m not gonna do a single damn thing now let’s get on with it

TSA Agent looks through the two largest pockets of my backpack, where most of my belongings are not, and pulls out a small plastic container of gummy peach rings.

I forgot to put the damn candy in a separate bin. I forgot I even had them! The motherfucker stops and carefully examines the container before placing it back in its pocket and giving me the bag.

They didn’t even look through like, 75% of it.

So yeah, the TSA is a great and necessary organization and I’m having a lovely vacation thanks for asking.