!!!111 TPA on the shitlist!
Previously my #2 airport in the country, TPA has now entered shit-list territory. I loved this airport, but after what happened five minutes ago, I have to lower my opinion of it considerably.
See, I used to love the TSA people. They were happy and made jokes. Tampa has apparently replaced the nice TSA people with TSA thugs. They are not funny. They are not nice. They give you unwilling handjobs.
No, really.
I am not looking particularly terroristy today. Here's a live shot. I look angsty, but not terroristy.
Anyway, I set off the metal detector.
"What's metal on you," the man who resembles Mr. Magoo asks.
"Nothing," I reply.
"What's your deal? Don't argue with me," he answers.
"Seriously, man, no metal on me."
"MALE ON FIVE!" He yells over his shoulder.
A husky man arrives and asks me to come with him. We don't really go anywhere, just away from the opening of the metal detector. We're wide open in public.
I have an issue, of course, with the assumption that a male ought to be searching me. What is the premise behind this? That I am more comfortable with a man searching me than a woman? Is this an assumption that all people are heterosexual? Why can we not get over the idea that BEING SEARCHED IS NOT A SEXUAL ACT. IT IS LIKE GOING TO THE DOCTOR. THUS, MEN AND WOMEN CAN INTERACT IN THE SEARCH PROCESS WITHOUT SEX BEING A FACTOR.
Except in my case, where the dude, whose wand only went off on the button of my jeans, asked me to unbutton them.
So with little kids and their families walking by, I unbutton my jeans. Husky dude who looks like the guy from Alias who's now on Heroes slides his hand down the front of my pants. He reaches junk. HE REACHED JUNK!
A dude handled my junk!
In the Tampa airport!
Anyway, they didn't find anything, and nor would they, as I didn't HAVE anything, just a pair of jeans I've worn through this airport at least four times before without any problems. I go back to collect my stuff near the metal detector. Mr. Magoo calls out to husky Alias guy.
"What's this guy's deal?" he yells, pointing at me.
"Nothing."
Mr. Magoo scowls at me.
Comments
you got your junk handled by a big goon all in the name of being a groomsman at my wedding. nice.
Posted by: mark | November 8, 2006 11:43 PM
I just realized I typed that he reached down the front of my pants and found nothing.
I should totally fix that, as it's inaccurate. He reached down the front of my pants and found nothing... except my huge package.
Posted by: tim | November 9, 2006 03:28 AM
Wow. That's rather extreme. And you do look angsty, but not terroristy. But I'd be angsty too if I had to deal with airport security like that.
Posted by: Michelle | November 9, 2006 12:12 PM