An upright, mobile Tomaso poses with a brace ‘O
Prancing Horses. (The Tomaso Collection)
What do you mean, I can’t take my Easter Basket
thru Security?
Yeah, as I’m surrounded to the tranquil sounds
of a chainsaw, Timber! Hopefully just “pruning” the bushes? As I prefer my
shade trees, Numbskulls! And in lieu of hunting for chocolate Bunnies,
Marshmallow Peeps, Jellybeans, etc. I thought I’d serenade Y’all with this
Easter tale of woe. Or should that be Lake woebegone?
This March I went to Arizona, being the first
time I’ve flown on a Big ‘Ol Jetliner post Open Heart surgery, for which I was
somewhat apprehensive over going thru security now with “metal” in my body. As
not only do I have a mechanical heart valve, to which I have zero clue over
it’s materials composition, but supposedly also carry stainless steel “bailing”
wire around my sternum that was cut in half…
SO I asked the friendly Check-in Agent, who
breezily said to tell TSA when I got to security. Then I awaited my “Chariot”,
Err wheelchair to take me to my Gate. Since I’ve long since given up “fighting”
over going by wheelchair thru crowded airports, which really is the easiest way
for all involved.
Thus, a very no-nonsense, curt, All business
woman briskly pushed me to my Gate, first going thru security. As I repeated my
inquiry about my heart valve when handing my ticket and ID to the first
security worker, who once again just said tell TSA.
Now in years past, after I’ve removed my shoes,
put them, my folding white cane, backpack, etc. into the bins for screening,
I’ve always been allowed to walk thru the X-Ray machine with the assistance of
a TSA worker guiding me thru by taking my hand. Yet little did I know this
wouldn’t be an option on this trip! For which I wasn’t even asked about, or
given the option. Which I must say I found disconcerting…
But first I had to deal with the woman
assisting me, who was very gruff and apparently didn’t understand what being
Blind means? Curtly telling me to put my boots in the bin, on the table. Uhm,
Hello? Do you realize I’m Freakin’ blind and cannot see the table or bin
sister! As the “fun” was only beginning!
Little did I know that I’d be receiving a full
body pat-down. With the TSA security worker explaining how He would be running
the back of His hand in a horizontal and vertical motion over my groin and
buttocks, Swell! After telling me to raise my arms up and hold them like
somebody on a cross. Hey, after all the Easter Bunny does make Her yearly
appearance today, Righto?
Telling me I could remain seated in the
wheelchair, but to hold my arms up as He ran His hands over them, before
patting down both the front and back of my torso, beginning with my backside…
Before He got to my buttocks, He inserted His fingers
inside my jeans waistband. Yo Dude, you’re getting a Wee bitamyte’ Frisky! Before
asking me to slide to the right and left of the chair, and raise my buttocks
into the air for Him. As I lifted one butt cheek at a time, before it was time
for my frontal lobotomy, Err probe of my groin, Ooh la lah! Before He
thoroughly patted down my legs to my ankles on both sides, with All of this
“screening” occurring in full public view, since I’d declined the “privacy”
screening…
And as I sat there being frisked, I suddenly
realized that I’d brought my metal Hiking water bottle fully filled. Musing to
myself kiss that goodbye! Before a female security agent pleasantly asked if
I’d like Her to empty it for me? Yes, that would be wonderful, after She’d
inquired if I had water inside it? Not only putting it back into the plastic
bag I had it in, to prevent having a wet backpack. But also put the twisty
“zip-tie” back on it…
Then my friendly wheelchair attendant, HaHa!
Told me to put on my boot, which you guessed it, were on the table, Sigh! And
then just pushed me to my Gate, said it’s right in front of you and simply
walked off without saying a word.
Parked at my Gate a half hour before boarding,
suddenly Southwest Airlines made a Gate change announcement for my flight, as
my waiting area simply became a Ghost town with me being the only person left
there in my forlorn wheelchair, WTF? Wondering if somebody was going to
“collect” me? But nothing happened…
As I started to get a little bit concerned
after they’d made the second Gate change announcement for my flight and I still
sat alone. Hearing what sounded like an Airport worker nearby, I unfolded my
cane and prudently called out to this
lone man in the concourse. Hearing His walkie talkie squawking “Airport-speak”,
asking if He worked here? Who then summoned somebody to come get me, take me to
the new Gate, which thankfully I made my flight!
Ah Contrair, the
fun’s just beginning, as that was only round one of going thru security.
And it’s funny, Haha?
How each airport does their security screening. Since in Phoenix I didn’t
bother to remove my portable CD player from my backpack. Hey, everybody still
uses those, Righto? But Gee Wally! My backpack made it fine thru the x-ray
machine without removing it, which I’d done in Seattle…
Yep, you guessed it.
Once again, I got to be up close ‘n personal with a TSA security agent for
another wheelchair pat-down. Although I had zero clue that this would be an
enhanced full body pat-down! Being the youngest of the three wheelchair bound
travelers; with a woman who was 81 and a man 72, I just sat there parked alone
for several minutes.
Then two agents
approached me and asked if I had anything to declare? Telling them about my
heart valve and bailing wire, they asked if I was able to stand for 4-7mins?
Standing upright,
once again I got to spread my arms like being on a cross. Before the one man
said I could put them down after He’d seen my one hand shaking apparently?
After they’d been thoroughly patted down.
Now, not only did I
get to have my buttocks and groin patted down with the backs of His palms. But
this time they had me give myself a “wedgie!” Asking me to pull my jeans
waistband up as high as it would go and then hold it there!
Yet first I needed to
remove the empty plastic produce bag I’d forgotten was in my rear pants pocket.
With the agent asking if I could remove it for Him please. Which He handed back
to me later…
As I hiked up my
jeans, holding them by the empty belt loop on each side, once again a hand
slipped inside my waistband front and back. And then He asked me if I could
spread my legs? A little further, please…
As the second man
then instructed the one patting me down, where to thoroughly frisk me. Making me guess He must
have been in training? He lightly “caressed” the insides of my groin down to my
ankles before I could put my legs back together. Then said I could get back
into the wheelchair, before my much friendlier male wheelchair attendant
collected me.
Putting on my boots,
the other male wheelchair bound member of our trio, who’d apparently watched
these proceedings bemusedly proclaimed
to Mwah afterwards: My Gawd, I didn’t know I was traveling with Osama Bin
laden!
Having watched the
TSA agent search every inch of my body from neck to toes front and back
thoroughly!
And that’s just a
“small” flavour of some of my Blind travel Hijinx
As just don’t Call me
Shirley! Roger-Roger. Guess I picked a Bad day to Quit sniffing Glue, Hya!
