Well, Well, Well

What a surprise. Another lovely flying experience.

Apparently, in addition to taking your laptop out of all of its protective sleeves and cases so the gorillas can toss it around unimpeeded in order to inspect it for who knows what, a new rule now exists regarding another sensitive piece of expensive equipment. All video cameras must assume the position in an unprotected compromised state to be handled by reject burger flippers in a TSA uniform. These are the same folks that have difficulties grasping "no cheese on that please" means do not add an extra slice and "stay alert" does not mean in your dreams.

I don't know about anyone else. I can only speak for myself.

In the same manner that I do not go into a hospital's medical operating facility and disassemble all of the instruments and machines there, swabbing them with some unspecified, unidentified chemical solution, turning them upside down, shaking them and examining them with an uneducated eye, not knowing what these machines do or how to properly handle them, I would expect someone else not to touch my specialized, highly sensitive and expensive equipment and instruments that are necessary to perform my job, a job they are not qualified to do and know nothing about.

Considering most other government agencies seem to respond with lieniency and grant priviledge to those presenting bribes and favors for a turned eye, perhaps I should start going through the screening process at airports with a bunch of bananas in arm to distribute to the TSA folks so I might proceed to my plane without absurd inspection.

I guess I should address the liquid situation while I'm thinking about it. If my soda or water was purchased at the airport and is still sealed and unopened, why am I not permitted to carry it with me? Oh, that's right, it's more than 3.5 ounces. What an idiot I am. I believe in order to further comply with this liquid restriction, next time a TSA agent tosses my drink in the trash in front of me without giving me the option to drink before I enter, I will consider it a reminder to release at least 3.75 ounces of spit or urine, whichever I have an abundance of, in their direction.

If you do by chance come across one particular TSA agent wearing a name tag with Richard Dick on it, you have a few options. You can cash your ticket in and take a train, preserving everyone's dignity, or you can continue on and let the jokes fly. I opted for the jokes. My comedy was so entertaining I got to meet the majority of the TSA staff and a few local law enforcement fellows. A lovely time was had by all.

I'm so steamed right now writing about this crap, I may never get to the actual flight. I must rest before I explode. It is good to be home, but I don't know if it is really worth all of the trouble getting here.