Wednesday, November 17, 2010
I am also not really feeling comfortable with the new "enhanced" pat downs where the super professionally trained TSA dude or dudette gets to rub his or her hands over your private parts. Trust me, if I'm going to hide an explosive on my person and kill myself anyway, I might as well use the Get Smart version of the tampon bomb. They aren't going to detect that on me with a touchy feelly grab between my legs. Maybe the next rule will be that menstruating women won't be allowed to fly oh, and we'll let those people sporting the sassy Depends Diapers skip the trip to the kids house too.
I know that eventually, I'll be forced to make a choice between the scan and the mini-date with an ugly TSA lady but for now, I'm thankful that at SeaTac I can jump to a different line and avoid the scan. Whilst I continue to be pregnant you won't catch me in the scanner booths. I really only have one more trip on the books before I won't be allowed to fly anyway, but the whole idea of the pat down stresses me out. The previous pat downs made me uncomfortable and they were localized to my torso, arms and pretty high up the leg. The boob and crotch grab feel like a personal violation.
Will TSA be grabbing my kid's crotch if I refuse to let them scan her little baby body when we go to Denver to visit Grandma & Grandpa? I'm pretty sure she'll be in a diaper and thus what kind of assurance will TSA get that I haven't stashed something nefarious in that little absorbent pad? Maybe they'll want the kids to go through naked or have mommies and daddies remove the diapers for the TSA agents. I tell you if we're asked it might be a challenge for me not to save the poopiest diaper for that experience. "Here, let me store this poop side down on your table while you inspect my 3 month old daughter." I'm guessing that Jason will help me fly right and not get arrested for stinking up the security line with Lucy's poop, but in my head it feels like a nice 60's era type of revolt against "the man".