Tag Archives: airport security

The news that’s fit to print

Standard
plane-50893_960_720

Leaving—on a jet plane. DO know when I’ll be back again. The very next day!

I’ve begun planning for my whirlwind trip by picking out, washing, drying, and hanging up the five wardrobe changes for my television debut. Hanging the clothes up is a fool’s errand since they’ll be shoved, er, placed nicely, in a suitcase soon enough, but I can at least give them a fighting chance, right?

My schedule is to leave Sunday morning, spend all day on planes and in airports after getting the customary pregnant-woman-who-refuses-to-use-the-body-scanner pat-down (Happy Mother’s Day to me!), arrive at night, film the next day from 9a.m.-4:30p.m., fly away that evening, doing the whole pat-down, airports, flights thing in reverse, and arriving home around midnight local time.

If this is what’s considered “living the life” of a writer, it might be overrated. And did I mention the flights I’ve been booked are on United? Heaven help me.

So I’m planning six outfits for being on-site less than 24 hours. The sixth outfit being my Read the rest of this entry

Advertisements

Getting frisked twice in three days

Standard

Technically, they call it a pat-down when it’s done at the airport, but from what I’ve seen of people getting frisked on TV, cops have nothing on the TSA (Transportation Security Administration, in case you were wondering) when it comes to invasion of privacy in a public setting.

So here’s the thing, those blasted full-body scans are everywhere now. I remember when some poor saps got stuck in those lines while others skated through your standard metal detector, but no more. The putting your hands in the air like you really do care while x-rays check your personage for concealed weapons is now the norm.

TSA-_How_It_Works.ogv.240p

From wikipedia’s TSA “How it works” video.

Sure, they still have the metal detectors standing there like old relics at a museum for people to stare at in awe and yearning as they wait in long security lines, but those are only for people who apparently travel frequently enough or can afford to pay to not have to raise their hands if they’re sure. Those people also get to keep their shoes on. Apparently rich, well-traveled people don’t conceal weapons in stilettos. Though, truthfully, the stilettos could be used as a weapon. Why am I the only one seeing this? Nail clippers are verboten, but pointy-heeled shoes? No problem. I know which I’d rather have in a fight should I need to poke someone’s eye out.

Not that I spend time thinking about these things.

The other lucky souls who got to used the metal detector were those carrying small children. To this I protest. I’M carrying a small child! He just doesn’t happen to be visible yet!

Even the random lady during my friend’s and my pre-security bathroom break, washing her hands at the sink between us, agreed with me that I shouldn’t use the giant sweeping arm contraption while pregs. [Sidenote: I love when strangers join in your conversation, and I’m not even being sarcastic. It’s just friendly and shows a camaraderie among women. Particularly when it comes to being pregnant. And being in the bathroom.]

So, with shoes off, paraphernalia in the little white bins, and suitcase on the conveyor belt, I waited for the TSA man to take a breath during his routine announcements to those in line about liquids, laptops, and I don’t know, lozenges? Are those forbidden too?

I thought surely he must be finished, but he held a blue-gloved finger up to me (the correct finger) until he completed his litany. Read the rest of this entry