You know, it is bad enough being a man and carrying vanilla almond exfoliating scrub without being forced to stow it in a clear ziplock bag and then flail it around an airport.
My pores cry out for attention, but they generally do it very, very quietly so as not to involve anyone -- As all crying should be.
Further, why would my laptop need to be scanned at all, much less scanned apart from my shoes as though the X-Ray could somehow irradiate them and form them into some evil footwear/Windows Vista hybrid?
The poor guy transporting a USB hard drive behind me was shuttled into a little room down a dark corridor and I never saw him again.
The important part is this: I'm home. I managed (barely) to avoid speaking all the various inappropriate comments which would have certainly had me staring at the next six months from within the confines of a bamboo cage in Guantanamo Bay, did not curse the people selling 20oz bottles of Diet Coke for $1.79 each in the little gift shops, and did not shriek in frustration at hearing the same "unattended luggage will be destroyed violently" recording for the jillionth time.
In short -- Go, me!
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