Let's take a quick look at the TSA, and it's obedient members. I chose "members" for a reason.
Most of you following this know I had done something to my foot on the outing with mrcaddie, Erik, & Mike, last fall. I was wearing that boot I posted, on & off, ever since.
Hobbling into Bradley airport in Connecticut, I was given a wheel chair. Mike had the lowly task of wheeling me about. I must say, I was petrified on the slightest slopes. Definitely a good place to get some karma put back on me, should he inadvertently loose his grip.
Bradley was a cinch. No computers out of the case, no shoes off, just walk on bye...
Bye Bye now...
The way it used to be. I know it's hard to believe, but we didn't fall out of the sky in a ball of fire & twisted aluminum.
The pilot had that dubious duty to himself. I am sure alanti will confirm, there are some skeptically shady characters behind the controls now. Having a bad day? Let's see how far into this mountain we can bury this bird?
Thankfully the mountainous terrain is almost non existent on the eastern seaboard. Water however, is ever present. Wearing a device on your foot or leg, gets you a front seat, with leg room. Who knew? Wink wink...
The flight down was uneventful and quick. Sleeping, and valium works wonders. I highly suggest both.
In Fort Meyers, Palace Glades airport as I used to know it, was a complete different story, and name from when I used to fly in there, in my own toys. That ten year hiatus thing I mentioned earlier, was when it was not RSW.
Coming home, again, Mike had the dubious task of chauffeuring me about. When approaching the machine you stand in, and wave to God, the elderly gent asked if the boot can come off. I told him if it has to, it will, with prejudice. He laughed.
He was nice. He said maybe they'll sort it on the other side. He handed me a cane, took my shotgun crutch, (not really) (maybe) I'm not telling, and in I went.
When I popped out the other side, a late 20 something year old mixed bag, (not racist) approached me and said "You have to take off the boot". They already stole my left sneaker.
I leaned into him and said, "you know what the best thing about my life is"? "I don't HAVE TO DO ANYTHING, I do what I want"... "Now if you rephrase your question, I may acquiesce to your demonstrative inquiry"...
I sat down in a hard chair and put my foot on top of my left knee. I gently took of the boot, and handed it to him. He threw it to the x-ray machine. Then he turned to me and went to grab my bare foot.
I gently grabbed his wrist, and said "You will NOT be touching that foot"! I asked if he thought I drilled a hole in my ankle, and hid some explosives in there? Albeit I am an explosives expert, Imma not gonna blow myself up, so mundanely......
There's going to be fanfare out the whazoo, when that time comes...
He looked at me and angrily stated, "Let go of my hand". I reassured him he was NOT going to touch my bare foot. He gave me the hairy eye ball. Well, that's all the confrontation I needed to ask him, if he had a foot fetish?
Yep, that drove him over the edge, just as I suspected it would. I let his wrist go, and he began shaking his index finger at me while scolding me. I told him if he doesn't stop it, & get it out of my face, I would break it off & shove it up his corn hole. Sorry ladies...
I explained that a blue shirt & a cotton patch does not give him power over me......
Apparently he never had anyone say no to him before...
After he collected himself, he began to scold me again, without the finger, but leaning in, way to close to me. I told him to stop invading my personal space... That was all I could think of at the moment, to push him all the way over the edge.
I was speaking loudly to him. Remember the deafness thing?
Well, when in an area of loud intrusive ambient sounds, coming from all directions, into one, half good ear, we need to speak up in order to hear our selves making noise. I speak with a raspy voice.
All who have met me will attest to that. It helps control the volume until such situations arrive. Wayne, Mike & Erik, will all tell you this. I have a funny feeling Alan knows what I'm talking about as well.
So, an Amazonian woman approached, let herself inside the "Cow Catcher" banding, and asked if there was a problem. Mr fetish boy looked at me, I gave him the 3 month unshaven eyeball, and he said, "he grabbed my arm".
She asked, "what do you want to do"? This was his opportunity to adhere to his training, and take me for the obligatory strip search, Alan is so familiar with. Hmmmm, one wonders if it was his choice, when hottie's were on the line.
A little to the left please..... Now back & forth......Rolls his eyes back, AHHHHHH, thank you...
I garnish personal info when I'm golfing with someone too... lol
He stammered, I knew I owned him at that moment. I took my move & explained to the Macedonian, I am deaf, and this guy has NO EXPERIENCE with how to relate to the deaf. Explaining the reason for my loudness.
She knew he couldn't do anything from that point on. I had some insight for her as what to do with the hermaphrodite...
I did mention a foot fetish to her. She was repulsed. Mostly thinking of her own size 13 ladies shoes, I suppose. One needs to pick up on these subtleties if your going to stand up for yourself, in a world controlled by fear mongers.
I'm on top of that heap folks. LMMFAO Yessirrey, you have to know your opponents weakness. Then you plant the seed, and watch them beat themselves up for you. I learned that at a very young age.
She had had enough, of a futile battle with me. No sense in going to war with intelligent peeps.
Now Mikey was ALL THE WAY DOWN at the end of the x-ray belt, with his back to all this. Wicked smart guy...
Oh, wait. Mr, Tweak had approached a grandmother & her granddaughter standing near us, and promptly exclaimed to them, "If you're traveling with this man, you need to get him under control"! He scared the skin off these peeps.
When he turned to me, I said "They are NOT with me, & you owe them an apology"!!
That is what sank his dingy, when I told the "she hulk" he had done that, to those poor defenseless women, she took notice of them. Don't engage me, unless you want to wage war, and are willing to die for your silly ineptness...
So, I had to yell to Mikey, "MIKE, THROW ME MY SNEAKER". he complied and whipped my sneaker over the heads of a 1/2 dozen people. DANG, I love that guy.......
I was packed into the wheel chair facing away from the Tweaker & the Hulktress. When the Mikester, swung me around, the Tweaker was no longer on the line...
That's how you deal with the TSA!!!
YUT!!
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PS. Still not going to work. Screw em!
When they find the finest speck of respect, I may rethink it. I can build off of a speck...