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a uniform and a badge, and, well...
Milgram and Zimbardo have already done the work on the inevitable upshot.
I once disembarked at Kansas City to make a connecting flight back home. We were way late, owing to severe weather, and my connector was about to depart. In the crush of equally frantic passengers, I inadvertently passed out of security (had never been to that airport before), and had to go back through. My belt buckle set off the detector alarm, and, sensing my anxiety, TSA peeps pulled me aside for the full-body wand and pat-down schtick. The more I protested about missing my flight, the slower the dude deliberately went. Then his sidekick leisurely opened and examined everything in my carry-on.
They knew I was pissed, and were just eagerly hoping I'd go off on them so they could call in the guards and have me detained.
When they finally let me go, I ran to the plane (only a gate away, mercifully) in my socks, dragging my belt and carrying my shoes and still-askew bag. I turned to see them watching me, smirking -- hoping, no doubt, I would yield to my impulse to flip them off so they might still have me detained. The flight attendant was holding the aircraft door, about to close it.
Shit.
