It may come as a surprise that I have not memorized completely the entire dialogue from Kill Bill 2. Alas, it’s true, but I’m working on it.
Which brings me to the scene in which Bill is advising Beatrix before she begins her cruel tutelage under Pei Mai, the Kung Fu Master.
“Whatever Pei Mai says, whatever! Do it immediately. Do not hesitate,” Bill admonishes, “Cast him a defiant eye and he’ll pluck it out! Disobey him and he will snap your back like a twig. And, that will be the end of you.”
Having recently traveled and experienced the joys of airport security it is my belief that if Pei Mai worked for the TSA he would be Employee of the Month.
Now, don’t get me wrong (speaking into the hidden microphone in the Blogorium) I have nothing against airport security, in fact, I’m positively overjoyed that we have secure airports. But, there comes a point where security becomes Extreme Security and I have thoughts that driving from Houston to Seattle might be better.
Such was the case this weekend.
As a rule I travel as light as possible. I’ll take my trusty laptop in its own special case and all my other gear fits into a thimble. This weekend it didn’t matter. I could have been lugging a sea chest. The long line on an off-peak travel day should have been the tip-off. By the time I got up to the scanner I realized I was going to need a bunch of those grey, plastic tubs.
Laptop in tub. Thimble in tub. Shoes in tub. Coat in tub. Cell phone in tub. I had my own Amtrak of grey tubs chugging their way into the scanner. I was a railroad tycoon.
OK, that part wasn’t so bad but walking through the detector, that’s something I dread. It’s no different than when I leave CompUSA with a bag full of things I don’t need that I fear the store detector will go off. Then it’s stop, open the bag, go over the receipt, loads of apologies, sorry, sir, this always happens. Damn computers, you know. Come again! I just don’t need that.
It’s my theory that you have to walk through the detector just right, not too fast, not too slow. Maybe with a spring in your step or a little hop.
I turned to walk through the metal detector and they guy in front of me was doing the Hokey Pokey. The TSA agent gave him the hairy eyeball, but scored him a 8.5, anyway. He probably lost half a point or so for poor artistic expression. Ah, today is Hokey Pokey day. I can do the Hokey Pokey.
As I approached the detector the TSA agent held up a little card. It had one word written on it:
Oh, man, not Riverdance! Please, not Riverdance! But, the agent was firm. She smiled and nodded her head for me to proceed.
I put my boarding pass into my mouth, balled my hands into fists, arms straight down by my side, looked ahead with a steely gaze and started my jig. I did a couple of impressive hops followed by some rapid tappity-tapping as I approached the threshold. Pirouetting twice while passing through the gate I increased my tappity-tapping to a furious pace. My feet were a blur. I ended the routine with several high-knee kicks and one final high leap which I planted directly in front of the agent. Man, I stuck that landing!
Breathing hard I awaited the results.
Yes! I beat Hokey Pokey Man! I picked up the roses being thrown by other agents, blew a few kisses, collected my train of tubs and headed off to the Gate.
Maybe it’s going to be a good trip after all, I thought. The last time I went through security I only scored a 7.25 doing a Brazilian Samba, but that was because my thong slipped.
Wardrobe malfunctions will do that. Yes, they will.