After three days of attempted travel, we have arrived. We were supposed to fly out on Saturday. Then on Sunday. Then third time was a charm with an overnight Monday night. But it was not without its battles. I tested positive for bomb residue.
So I go through the human scanner, and OF COURSE, I light up bright red in my crotch again. I had plenty of time to ask why I always trigger the damn thing and apparently my clothes (especially my crotch) are too baggy. The machine isn’t looking for metal, I’m told — just unusual shapes. Good to know! She recommend traveling in jeans or leggings next time. Side note: I wonder if you can see breast implants on that thing? I totally bet you can see them. But yeah, back to bombs.
Now I gotta get the feel up again. So we go through the dance and she tests my hands for bomb residue. BAM! False positive. Okay, though, this person isn’t a bomber — lets do this right. So now I get the fully monty pat down with a fresh set of gloves. She makes sure to touch every area of my person. Then she screens my hands again AND her gloves. Fucking false positive. Now they’re taking my bag (that had already passed the scanner successfully) away.
My bag gets a deep dive but there’s nothing interesting in it. Now there’s a policeman and a new TSA agent for me. She explains everything shes gonna do. Again, I don’t speed hear so I’m like whatever, do what you gotta do lady. I didn’t ask for privacy either because fuck that. So I look over to my husband and tell him that I think if I test positive a third time, I’ll probably go to TSA jail. Not like, they’ll arrest me, but I bet Id get taken to another location for further testing, ya know? We already brought a cop over.
So new TSA lady puts on fresh gloves and does the full monty pat down again. I offer up my hands but she’s like “oh no, we’re not testing your hands again.” She then just tests her gloves (which had been all over me). Green light! Woot! Bomb free! Third time a charm, baby! Thats when I knew this flight would work and not get delayed a fucking third time. We’re totally rolling on third times a charm luck.
So, apparently, some lotions and soaps can make you false positive on those things. But the only lotion I use is on my tattoo. I KNOW, I’m a horrible person. Plus I had passed the extra screening on Sunday night with no problem. So *shrug.* I guess we, thankfully, won’t find out where a third positive leads you. There’s always the trip home though.
I’ll take the time to point out, the TSA agents were super polite and lovely to work with. No one was an asshole. It was only women that felt me up and we were in view of everyone (by my own choice). I was watching the bag search. I wasn’t in some detained area, I was just a rock in the TSA river that everyone else had to flow around. Like my husband, who passed without problem. As always.
Mr C’s sister picked us up from the airport and we arrived at the cottage around 3am. That would be 2am in our home time-zone. And now it’s 6am and I’m awake. Not sure if it’s the anxiousness or the humidity or what. I mean, it is super fucking humid with NO AC. At least we are here and the ocean is lovely. Maybe I shall go lay back down?
OH WAIT! I forgot another great tid-bit. K is cat sitting for me. You know my precious Jack (cat) requires medication twice a day. Well, K went over to give him his evening doses and triggered our alarm system. Since we were traveling, we missed the calls. So the security company called the cops. Who then went to visit K. I have to get the full play by play from her soon, but she said she was in her pjs and the cops were cute. I regret not having that Ring Camera anymore.
