Inside my body are two titanium hip devices that make airport security scanners go all kinds of cattywonkers. Because of my metallic enhancements, I must always submit to a manual screening by a TSA agent. Usually, these are impersonal affairs with a routine body patting performed by curious and suspicious hands in latex gloves. Not so at America’s Friendliest Airport!
Here, my TSA agent was deeply concerned about my comfort. To put me in the mood for my personal examination, he lighted some patchouli and sandlewood incense. “The aroma is divine,” he said as he slipped on some soft brown kid leather gloves. “I want to put you at ease and make this special, even memorable!”
Next, he said he wanted to select some smooth music to calm my jangled nerves. He played some mellow Barry White on his Bose iPod SoundDock as he dimmed the lights. “It’s all about letting your senses chill. I want you to be present, yes, but relaxed,” he said. “I want you to enjoy our time together.”
He proceeded to give me a pat down that was attentive, caring and respectful. He ran the test on his gloves to ensure that I was not carrying explosives (I was not), and he hugged me after the tests came back negative. He said, “I knew you weren’t a terrorist. I didn’t pick up any anger issue vibes.” Then he offered to share some delicious ice cream with me to talk about my hip replacements and how I felt about having them. “I want you to share your feelings,” he said, “it must be awful to always feel you’re in a vulnerable place. You can talk with me all about it.”
Finally, to soothe me, he gave me a ride on his shoulders parading me throughout the airport. “Look how tall you are?!’ he said, “why, you could play professional basketball, oh yes you could!” We both laughed, he gave me a firm man hug and we parted ways. He was little teary eyed. He’d given me a security check that I’d never forget; one I’d always treasure.
America’s Friendliest Airport knows how to make one feel welcomed. I suggest you divert any future flights through PHX to enjoy their unique brand of hospitality.
On my way… what was the guy’s name? Will he give me the same treatment even if I don’t have any titanium implants? How about if I mention your name?
I believe his name is Carl ‘Something-Or-Other‘ (not his real last name, I just can’t recall it).
Just ask for Carl. He wears the standard TSA uniform but also sports an orange bowler cap with a long pheasant feather. It’s smart ‘n stylish!
I’m not sure if you must have titanium hips to get his attention, but you might consider the surgery anyway to be on the safe side. Then again, if you don’t care to go under the knife, simply carry a concealed metal object like a machete, can opener, horseshoe or old lawnmower blade. Simply set off the scanner machines and let Carl take you to a happy place: the manual screening at PHX.
Happy trails, pardner!
OK, I mentioned this TSA in Phoenix story of yours to my cousin Ted out in Acworth and he’s up in arms about it. He says he knows what you’re up to. Ted doesn’t have a computer anymore so he asked me to tell you that he’s got you figured out and you’re not gonna’ get away with it. He suspects you’ve been hired by some powerful behind-the-scenes agency to concoct a viral campaign to put a positive spin on the TSA and their perverted agents, who like nothing more than groping innocent Americans and gawking at electronic pictures of naked people. Now, Ted probably won’t do a darn thing, and maybe nobody else on the Internet will figure it out, but this TSA in Phoenix campaign of yours won’t play well in biker bars, so scratch that off your list.
It sounds to me like your cousin, Ted, is a hater.
Why can’t he just do as he’s told by the TSA? Relax, dude, enjoy the exploration and the bodily adventure. If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to fear.
I suggest Ted, and these biker buddies of yours, catch a flight to Phoenix and chill.
It’s all good, baby dolls!
I couldn’t afford the titanium implants for my hip surgery, so the doctor used old wire clotheshangers. The airport alarms start going off before I get anywhere near the scanner. If I fly out of PHX next time, I’ll look for Carl. He sounds so kind that he may be able to stifle the laugh reflex when he’s giving me the patdown.
Metal clothes hangers, eh? Those should make you very popular with TSA agents.
You will be comforted to know that Carl will treat you with kid gloves, literally. He may even give you dry cleaner bags to go with your hangers. He’s the kind of joe who cares that much.
I suggest all your future travel plans include a diversion to Phoenix. You won’t be sorry.
Kid gloves? Well, better that than the rubber gloves doctors use.
You said it, brother.