Monday 6:25 am – The line at airport security was long and full of cranky people like me. I forgot to take my small tube of hand lotion out of my purse and place it in a clear bag in the gray bin.
It traveled innocently through the XRay machine inside my roomy red purse and the belt stopped as it slid under the XRay. Dammit. One TSA agent summoned another. And then one more.
I feel myself blushing.
TSA ran the belt forward and backward. “It’s hand lotion, I quietly say.” As if they’re going to listen, hear me, or care. TSA agent pointing at screen. Other one agreeing. Run belt again. “It’s hand lotion”, I say a little louder. “I forgot to take it out.”
Line is backing up. Even mid-line TSA agents now looking over to see what’s the holdup. Tilting head sideways, three TSAs pointing at screen. “It’s my hand lotion!!!” I almost scream. That gets the attention of nearest TSA. “Step out of line, Ma’am”. “But it’s just hand lotion – take it out, I will happily throw it away to get the line moving again so I don’t get murdered by passengers about to miss their flight.”
TSA does not think this is amusing.
5 minutes later, contents of purse dumped, traffic backup now complete to back of line, team of TSA agents now regarding female TSA at XRay. She is holding my lotion by the tail as if it’s toxic. “Hand lotion. Sorry ma’am but we’ll need to discard this.”
My humiliation is complete. And my dry hands a painful reminder.
Journey On, Janes.