Yesterday I got more action than I have in a long time — with an airport security officer. (Bow chicka wow wow)
“If a latex glove snaps in the airport and no one is around to hear it, do you still feel violated?”
For the record, I was a good little traveler. I had dumped out all my liquids, eaten all my fruits, and was attempting to cross with only some animal crackers and cheese nips.
The security lady scanned me and my chest set off the wand. Apparently, the only viable explanation was that I must have bombs in my boobies.
Despite my explanation that I was wearing an underwire bra, she proceeded to give me a gratuitous breast exam with the enthusiasm of a teenager getting to second base.
Pro Traveler Tip:
Although I thought the dangly metal heart thingies on my undies were super cute, I do not recommend them for travel.
She pressed all around my groin like somehow she was going to discover a switchblade I had huffed up my vajajay. Or if her magic wand was going to detect a heroin balloon I had shoved up my ass.
I had the vague sensation of being on some bizarro game show — flashing lights, people watching, and some voice from above yelling
“Con-gratulations! You’ve just been chosen to be the next contestant on Wheel of Violation!”
To be fair, she did ask me if I’d like to go into a second room for more privacy. I believe she called it ‘The Champagne Room’. I declined but was hoping she’d give me a second to slip into something a little more comfortable.
No such luck. As I was poked and prodded, squeezed and caressed, I couldn’t help but notice the hopeful stares and tongues wagging around us. Somewhere in the background, a Marvin Gaye song came on.
After it was over I asked if I could call her later. I didn’t want things to get weird…
• • •
Disclaimer: No bombs or drugs were present on my person or in any of my bodily crevices.