For as many flights as I’ve taken in the post-9/11 era, one might think that I’d be relatively comfortable with the TSA (which incidentally stands for Touching Scrotums Assiduously) process. You’d be wrong though.
My process usually begins with packing left to do the morning of my flight and a hasty drive to the airport so that I’m already in “rush” mode. That is where the dew on my brow begins – with the pace of getting there. Once I get in the TSA line, the slight dew on my melon gradually evolves into a sweat of medical emergency levels.
After much time to reflect on this unwelcome phenomenon, I have come to the conclusion that it is due to a series of irrational thoughts that plague me every time I get in line. Some of these thoughts – almost in order of the way that I think them – are as follows:
“This sweat on my brow is making me look suspicious.”
“If I know that I do this, why didn’t I bring a folded up piece of paper towel to deal with it?”
“What is wrong with me and does the guy behind me think I have an active case of malaria?”
“If not malaria or typhoid, do I look like I have sinister intentions and are people becoming nervous around me?”
“Is it unusually hot in here? SOMEBODY NEEDS TO TURN THE AIR ON UP IN HERE!”
<sweat is now at biblical proportions>
“I hope they don’t need to touch me because I’m a biohazard at this point.”
<sweat stabilizes at free flow/drip level>
“Exactly how detailed is the image of my private parts on that X-ray and exactly where is the guy/gal who is enjoying the show?”
<sweat begins to taper off as I exit the screening process>
On a positive note, few can tackle me when I’m on the Skins team in a Shirts vs. Skins football game; so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.