Hail Of A Day

In preparation for my return leg from a trip to Washington DC, I had to spin the wheel and see what type of airport security prize I would win. Sometimes it’s the beady-eyed ID checker that scrutinizes and grunts orders at you. My favorite technique they employ is when they scream over the top of your head, “FOLKS, HAVE YOUR BOARDING PASSES AND ID’S OUT AND READY”, unlike this idiot right here in front of me. This, of course, is their way of publicly scolding you for not being prepared, while simultaneously having the right to scream at you and appear to be doing a great public service for your fellow passengers.

Then there’s the one that I get quite often…

Airport Security: Here’s an Arab-looking guy, and here’s a pasty, blonde guy from the midwest. I’ll do a Sector 7 deep security scan on the farmboy so as to appear that we’re not racially profiling.

Just call me the great equalizer of justice.

Next is the one that happened to me today. It’s called “The Phantom Alarm”. I had taken off everything but my belt, which had a microscopic amount of metal on it and never sets off the security alarm. See, no matter how many times I’ve had to take off my belt in the past it’s always a little uncomfortable. People fundamentally have an emotional reaction to seeing someone take off a belt. Either it means you’re about to get romantic or you remind them of their dad about to whoop their hiney. That’s why I always feel a bit awkward during this activity.

So I went through security with my belt on and it went off. Begrudgingly, I stepped back, and violated myself and others behind me by unsheathing my belt with a quick Indiana Jones snapping motion. I’m pretty sure the small Asian woman in line behind me didn’t appreciate my flourish as I nearly popped her in the eye. So, this time I approached the detector with full confidence that I would not set off anything, as I had nothing left of metal on my entire body.

BRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGG

I said, “You gotta be kidding, I don’t have a metal plate in my head”. My parents swore to me that it was plastic, from when they dropped me on my head. (Just kidding, mom…..I know it’s a better material than plastic). The security guard just said, “Sir, please empty your pockets and step back through.”

I patted myself down and all I had in my pocket was a peppermint and my driver’s license. I looked at the agent and dejectedly shrugged. In the meantime, a metal-clad parade of people led by Mr. T walked through the detector without sounding a peep. Hopelessly, I put the mint and license in the bowl and went back through….

SILENCE

I couldn’t believe it. I thought of several lines I could say to the security guard like, “Wand me down captain, I’ve got candy pants.” or “My breath is so stanky I need titanium reinforced peppermints.” But I just walked on and am still in disbelief as to why that worked.

I still have the suspect mint in my pants. My mouth has a little of the post-nap swamp taste but I dare not put it in my mouth. I intend to send it to Stanford’s Science Department to discover this new alien technology that has the appearance of candy and metallurgical composite of steel.

I’ve got a name for it….Peppermetal!