I'd like to give a shout out to my friend Magen for the title of this post. I definitely stole it from her blog.
Second only to my disgust for taxis is my disgust for airport security lines. This disgust has just recently reached unprecedented levels.
This past Monday as I was walking through one of the security check points at DFW's international terminal, I noticed a new machine that I had not seen before. Upon first glance, I thought it was one of those "puffer" machines that blow air at you and check to see if you have been transporting any explosive devices. I realized that this was not the case. It was one of those new x-ray machines that scans your body to see if you have any weapons that the metal detector would not pick up. I was pleased when I saw that the machine was not in use...or so I thought.
After standing in line and watching a minimum of 50 people pass through the metal detectors without any problem, it was my turn. I put my bags on the conveyor belt and walked over to the metal detector. I walked through without any problems. No beeps, no alarms going off. Nothing. (I've been through these machines enough times to know what will set them off.) I thought I was done. But no. A big man walks up to me and asks me if I can step into the machine. I was thinking in my head, "What the heck? Of all the people to 'randomly' ask to use this machine, why did you ask me?...the little 20-somethin' white boy dressed up in business casual that's still groggy from waking up too early."
Anyway, before I realized what was about to happen, it was too late. I had just been VIOLATED. Someone in some far off room just saw me butt-naked on their closed circuit television. Now you may be thinking, "Branden, they didn't really see you naked. They just saw an x-ray image of you." Well, take a look at the picture below and let me know if you still feel the same way.
Before walking into the machine they ask you if you have anything in your pockets. And since I'm a Moesser descendent, I of course had Chapstick in my front pocket. He asked me to hold it in my hands and then hold up my hands to my side. I wasn't allowed to put my hands in front of my "bits and pieces" to shield them from view. No. They had a 100% unobstructed view of my family jewels. Great. That just made my day. After the scan was done, the man got a message in his earpiece (you know what of those sneaky FBI like things) and he said to me "Do you have anything in your right, back pocket?" and I said "Oh ya, I have my wallet back there." He proceed to say in his 'polite' TSA tone of voice, "Well, that's why I asked you if you had anything in your pockets." I just ignored his rude tone and pulled it out to show him that the rectangular object in my right, back pocket was in fact a wallet and not a weapon of mass destruction.
After going through this semi-traumatic experience, I was curious to see who the next victim would be. Guess who the next victim was...NO ONE. No one had the pleasure of being digitally raped like I was. Oh well. I guess that just means someone wanted to see me naked. I guess I should just take it as a compliment and move on. All I hope is that the nameless, faceless person in the back room that saw me naked was a hot blonde, and not some obese man with a hairy back. Is that too much to ask?
Long story short, if you ever have the pleasure of visiting me in Dallas and you have to go through the international terminal at DFW...be forewarned. Next time I have to go through, I'm asking for a pat down.
