Early morning flight from San Diego to Manchester, New Hampshire. Picking up my new (to me) Tacoma. I’ve wanted a 4x4 for forever... I mean I technically own a 90 Wrangler YJ but that thing blew up years ago and now it’s a REALLY big paperweight.
So I struggle to get my shoes and jacket off, unload my laptop, etcetera That feeling is like the feeling when someone lets you cross the road afoot in front of you - you’re hurrying or trying to hurry or trying to make it look like you’re hurrying, all so a stranger doesn’t judge you. These are probably the only times I care about that. As I wait my turn for a the “arms up” experience, an employee brings my bag back and tells me to remove my speaker. So. You KNOW it’s a speaker, but you want me to take it out so you can see if it’s a speaker? Okay.
There’s something with the TSA body scan that they can see the metal keeping my spine together. So now I get a fun little back rub before continuing on.
After getting one, the employee said “you’re good to go,” so, like a normal human facing away from someone making you feel warm and fuzzy, I started to walk away. I get yelled at. Now look, I’m borderline obsessive about following rules. I also spent 11 years being mad at people who didn’t. So I’m STUNNED when I’m accused of such ignorance. Apparently, I was supposed to know she was speaking to another human. Well, fucking-a.
Now I sit and wait to board, sweaty and thirsty. And not wanting to pay $3 for a bottle of Diet Coke. But I know I will...
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