Thursday, March 5, 2009

just a little story about almost getting arrested at the airport to liven things up

Once upon a time, when there was only Miss O in my life, and we still did fun things like Travel, she and I took a trip to visit Uncle Josh and Auntie Steph in Virginia. We even flew. In an airplane. 

And let me tell you, it is highly preferable to turn an at-least-8-hour-driving-trip into an approximately-3-hour-flying trip.

The exception to this rule is this: Except if you are flying out of Dulles airport.

I had quite forgotten about this trip until I was reading a post by The Hotfessional, who is commuting to Chicago by air, and she was complaining about a guy in security who budged in line, and that led to me thinking about airport security and how, well, neveryoumind what I think about Homeland Security. God forbid I get pegged for being an anti-American Terrorist and taken up to the pokey for quote-unquote questioning. (Oh, wait, Obama is President...there's no more quote-unquote questioning...)

Let's pause to wave and say hi to all of you who call me Pinko Pamela, the Liberal Lady. Hi! How are you? Fine? That's great! Moving on!!!

Back to my uber-fascinating story.

We got to Dulles about five minutes later than we had hoped, which wouldn't have been a problem if everybody else hadn't arrived at the exact same time, only twenty, thirty and ninety minutes late. Clever people! The line was about ninetyelevenbazillion miles long, which is superfun with an 15 month old. And luggage. And a jogging stroller. And a car seat.

I will admit the jogging stroller was not the best idea, but it was the stroller we had. What can you do?

Finally, after the whole excessive waiting in line thing had gotten excessively tedious, we got up to the metal detector. It had taken about 90 minutes, and my flight was set to take off in 9 minutes. And if you've been to Dulles? You know you can't get to the gate from security. It's just plain impossible.

I grabbed four of the grey plastic boxes. I put Miss O in one of them, the diaper bag in another, the car seat in the third, and my shoes in the last one. I left the stroller open, so they could wand it or search it or blow it up...whatever would get me on my airplane.

Except? The enormous bastard (and I use ENORMOUS here as not only an indicator of how bastardy he was, but also as a descriptor of his own personal self) got all up in my face and told me I had to COMPLETELY DISMANTLE MY STROLLER. And that, my friends, is not even a little bit like opening your carry-on bag or spilling the contents of your purse or taking the underwire out of your bra. I am not mechanical at all. And also, my child was taking this opportunity to meet the nice Russian family behind us, and had obtained a Visa and was making alternate travel arrangements, to go home with her new family. It was awesome.

The situation elevated to the following statements:

TSA JERK: If you can't take it apart, I will have you arrested.
ME: Are you F^@#!>% kidding me? If you want it apart so bad, you take it apart. Do you get off on being a jerk to moms traveling with small children? Is that a box you check on the application to get this job? Arrest me then. It's only three o'clock in the afternoon. You'll be on national news by 6.

It was at this moment that the translator for the nice Russian family behind me, a very tall, serious-looking man, got in the face of the TSA Jerk, and asked for the Jerk's name and ID information because he was going to GET OUT OF LINE to go file a complaint about TSA Jerk.

And suddenly? Miss O and I were waved through. And God wasn't that mad at me for Eff-bombing the TSA Jerk, because there was a Jet Blue kiosk just past security with a Very Nice Lady who had been watching the whole event. And the Very Nice Lady called some other Very Nice People, and they held the plane for us. And I did not miss my flight. I also did not kill the TSA Jerk and get sent to Guantanamo Bay.

The End.


  1. Yikes. Could they make it any harder? I've had pretty good luck traveling with my three, but then again, I look so crazed at security, they are probably afraid to slow me down.

  2. I love TSA, they watched us struggle w/ 3 children at christmas time, whilst one of them tried to run away, because you know I can't go through the metal detector like a normal person. I have to go to the little pat down area EVERYTIME we much fun! i love travel stories!

    How you feeling these days anyway?

  3. I've learned which lines have the prick TSA guys and which ones have the nice ones. One benefit of traveling weekly. ;-)

  4. someone very near & dear to me recently went through airport security with a pocket knife in their bag. said person and said knife made safe & sound onto the plane.
    but good thing we have TSA jerks stopping moms and having them dismantle everything they brought with them. those strollers contain all sorts of deadly goods in them.

  5. LOL. Pamela the liberal, you crack me up. If someone asked me to describe you in two words, it would be "Bring it."

  6. What exactly did you have in that stroller that made you not want to take it apart?

    Weapons? Drugs? State secrets? Endangered animals?

    I vote weapons.

  7. Of course it was weapons. And drugs.

  8. I'm so glad you didn't kill anyone.

  9. I kept waiting for you to get to the part where you had to drink your own breast milk....or take apart Miss O.

  10. Sorry for yucking you out. But don't you remember that? When they made that poor woman drink from the bottle of pumped breast milk in her diaper bag? It made national news....I was horrified at the time (and breastfeeding). Anyway, I was referencing that - a slight lapse in good taste :).

  11. I've got a travel tip for ya - Get at least one child to flip out like a cat being forced into a tub of water, make sure there is plenty of screeching on both your parts, and then have him sink his teeth into your shoulder (or wherever is handiest) til you shriek and drop all four bags you were holding while you fought him off. They skipped me in front of almost 100 people at LAX just to get me out of their area. No lie.


talk to me, people. because you know i get all giddy when you do.