Jon22: The Website of Jonathan Dobres

My Thanksgiving break was unorthodox in its timing. I went home for Friday through Tuesday, in part to avoid the chaos that always descends over airports at this time of year. It paid off, but not without airport security systematically destroying my will to live.

On the flight down to Florida, I spotted a little folding table just slightly in front of the security area, set off to the side. I wasn’t even sure if I was supposed to stop there, it looked so very optional. Being a conscientious traveler in a nearly empty airport, I figured it couldn’t hurt. Alas, it could.

“Are you carrying any liquids in your bag?” he asked.

“Do toothpaste and shaving cream count?” I said. This is quite possibly the dumbest sentence of my life, for three reasons. One, never answer a TSA employee’s question with another question. Like a voice mail system, they can’t process it. Two, come on, of course they count. Who would brush his teeth with powder? This isn’t 1938. Three, I thought I was being funny. No, I don’t know why.

“Let me see them,” he said, holding out his hand.

At this moment I suddenly remembered the stringent ban on liquids that stems from a very real, thwarted terror plot that was supposed to happen late last summer. Some part of my brain, probably the one in charge of my fantasies, falsely believed that this ban had been lifted shortly after the plot was revealed. My fantasy cluster really needs to start talking to the cluster in charge of reading security bulletins.

The security officer told me flatly that I couldn’t have my toothpaste back. He did, however, show mercy in regards to my shaving cream. He placed it in a small Ziploc bag (to protect it from cold and noise?) and sent me on my way.

I proceeded to the regular security line, and underwent the usual ritual of removing all of my most threatening clothing. Taking off my shoes is always a little embarrassing, as my bad balance means I’ll have to sit down to do this if I can’t find a table edge to grab. Taking off my belt represents its own hilarity. I’d estimate I have a twenty-six or twenty-seven inch waist, but it’s hard to know for sure, since I have never, not once in my life, ever found jeans, khakis, or any other kind of non-elastic pantaloon that fits me without a belt. Removing the belt from the “belt + waist - pants > gravity” equation means that gravity becomes stronger than waist. Shoeless and holding up my jeans with my hands as casually as possible, I proceeded without incident through the metal detector. My shaving cream, however, was not so lucky and got confiscated, Ziploc and all. The man at the previous little table told only lies.

The return flight was a little less ridiculous, if only because I no longer had any liquids to be taken away. At the security line two paths diverged, like that Robert Frost poem. And I, I took the path that led to the chemical sniffing chamber. The security officer said it would allow me to keep my shoes on. Once I emerged, green lighted, from the chemical chamber, another security officer said, “Please remove your shoes.” I said, out loud, “Seriously?” and grabbed the nearest chair.

I have done a lot of flying since September of 2001, so I’ve put up with a lot of weird security mandates. I never complain, because every time I’m about to fly, I make a little deal with the universe. The universe is allowed to inconvenience me in any imaginable way — flight delays, misguided security procedures, sick infants, and on one occasion, a cockpit microphone failure that required us to switch to a new plane — as long as I arrive at my destination safely. Having my toothpaste confiscated from me, however, is where I draw the line. Who are we kidding here, really? The only reasonable way to impede terrorism, if you’re so intent on examining objects instead of behaviors, is to do away with the luxury of carry on baggage. That’s where these security measures have been heading for the past five years, and I see no reason to bother delaying the inevitable. Also, can we please give up on the shoe thing? Thanks.