How many times since Charles’ death, have I thought that?
Back in September, I went through security at LaGuardia in New York, and as I walked through the scanner, the TSA employee said I’d need to be searched. The little visual indicated that the search would be in a delicate area. Shocked, I said, “You have to search my crotch area?”
The TSA employee got fired up and yelled that I was being disrespectful by using the phrase “crotch area.” She went on to lecture that she had a job to do and I needed to watch what I said. Instead of feeling humiliated, I was trying not to laugh. Instead I apologized and told her it was not my intention to insult her, that I was just surprised. She then launched into her manifesto yet again telling me I was not listening when I had been making eye contact and quietly listening to her tell the same lecture twice.
She went to go get her supervisor. While we waited, she gave me the same lecture again. Her supervisor stepped up. listened to her story and got annoyed with her, looked up and said, “Just move on and get the job done, will you?”
Once she walked away, she had to repeat the same lecture for the fourth time while she told me I wasn’t listening when, in fact, I had said nothing but one sentence. She asked if I wanted to have the deed done in private with another TSA employee present. I just wanted it over with and could have given a rat’s ass whether she had to do a pat down in public or not.
I wanted to say, “For God’s sake woman, this is the kind of shit you worry about?” She still has the luxury of being super sensitive. As she word-shamed me I thought about how funny Charles would have found this scene.
As I walked away, the other passengers brushed by and muttered, “Power trip.” And all of us were shaking our heads and finally I could laugh.
I just don’t sweat a lot of small stuff any more. Rarely do I even sweat the big stuff. After going through this loss, my bar for getting annoyed at stuff that may have bothered me before is raised pretty high. I simply don’t get rankled as easily and am much more accommodating and accepting of others.
Shortly after the TSA incident, they announced they were going to have a moment of silence for victims of September 11. Yes, I was flying from NY on that day. And that big, loud airport got completely quiet for several minutes. Now that was profound.
8 thoughts on “And you worry about that?”
Thank you for this morning chuckle. I can relate to the bar lifted as I lost my 18 yr old son this year to fentanyl laced xanax pills.
You are welcome. Thanks for being here although I’m sorry about the circumstances which brought you to this blog. I am hearing more about how fentanyl is being put into other drugs. I think it’s crossed a line to murder.
Anne Moss, I trust I speak for thousands when I say how much we appreciate your perspective. As Jimmy Buffet says, “If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane.” It’s one of my favorite quotes. It gets me through many crazy moments. Maybe this is TMI but I am way too familiar with the personal pat down. I visit my kind-hearted, innocent son every week in prison. And every week I go through at least 2 complete pat downs. I’ll be careful not to use the word crotch. 🙃 I’m envisioning Charles laughing…and being proud of his spunky mom.
Did we ever think we’d be where we are today, Judy? Did we ever even imagine this is what raising children would be like? I’m sorry it’s routine for you. But like everything else, there are bigger things to worry about.
No, Anne Moss we could never imagine the life stuff that can happen despite all the love and good parenting. You know this all too well from your own personal experience, and hearing from so many people. Yep, I’m used to the pat down…but am always sympathetic when I see a mom who just experienced it for the first time.
It is a sad indoctrination and I am sure they feel your empathy
Gotta love perspective. And the ability to laugh at the absurd! After the pat down, of course…
Perspective is underrated! Thanks Amy