Do I look like a terrorist? Tell me the truth.
When I was packing for SCBWI in L.A., I painstakingly put all my liquids in the stupid 3 oz or less bottles, because that's the kind of citizen I am.
I went through security, and at the "put your shoes back on" place, the red lights go on, and the t.v.-watcher-guy motions someone over.
This young man- fresh out of high school- in a blue uniform comes up, pulls out my 3 oz bottle of contact solution, and says, "Ma'am, I'm going to have to run some tests on this."
I'm thinking, Kid, you're like twelve. What kind of tests are you gonna be running?
Seriously, was he going to take it back to the laboratory (lah-bore-uh-tory) throw on some safety goggles and some gloves, and conduct experiments?
Yes. Yes, he was. With a gloved hand, he transports the container back to his makeshift lab, and out come the droppers and vials.
He came back a few minutes later to deliver the bad news.Him: "I'm afraid I've got some bad news. I'm going to have to confiscate this."
I'm all for airline safety, but this was ridiculous! I hoisted my bags, all the while muttering "Fine! Fine! The world's a safer place because this guy who can't even grow a beard has passed judgment on an innocent bottle of contact solution."
When I got to my gate, I plopped in a seat next to Bree Despain, and started grumbling, saying really stupid things like, "Congratulations, everyone on my flight! You're all safe now!"
I found myself unable to stop saying red flag words like "bomb" and "fire", and then, in an act of dramatic defiance, I ripped the old baggage check tags off my suitcase and threw them to the ground. I littered to make extra work for the custodians.
I'm all, "They may take our contact solution, but they'll never take... our FREEDOM!"
Bree's all, "Um, those baggage tags have your name and address on them."
Me: "Right. Good point." I picked the tags up and threw them away.
So much for my chance to raise an army against The Man.
