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I can't even be sane about this stuff any more, it enrages me so. I'm on a plane a couple of times a month and it drives me completely nuts that I'm treated so badly when I'm spending so much money. I mean, if I was treated like crap every time I bought a pair of shoes, well, let's just say signore Blahnik and Ferragamo would be much poorer today.
Seriously, though, I can't imagine what those security guards think I'm going to do with my lip balm — that's balm, not BOMB, you idiots. And I'm pretty sure you only need to get a glimpse of the ol' double Ds to figure out what the underwire is for, so what's with all the pat-downs? Oh, wait.
The funny thing is, I'm a travel writer, and the one part of my job I actively hate is the actual travel part. At least I'm based in Canada, where things aren't quite as draconian as they are in the States. In fact, I recently cancelled a trip to New Orleans in large part because I just wasn't up for the hassles of flying in your country. And that's just damn sad.
The frightening, frustrating part of it is that there's no one to complain to! Worse, we've all become obedient sheep nodding our heads and putting up with all manner of insult because it will make things safer. Seriously? You really believe that confiscating cupcakes — the icing was considered a 'liquid" — makes your flight safer? Sounds to me a lot more like what my parents fled from in Eastern Europe 50 years ago.
Anyway, so grateful to Patrick Smith for his eloquent rants; seems to me he's the only one voicing the dark thoughts I'm thinking each time some security guard starts riffling through my handbag.