des the terrorist strikes back

Do I have a problem with authority figures? Apparently. You may remember a time when I almost couldn't go see the Statue Of Liberty because in my purse I had a manicure set that contained - heaven forfend! - cuticle scissors. I argued with the security guard about how A) these scissors couldn't kill anyone, and B) even if they could, why would I wait til I got on the island to do it? Eventually they let me go, scissors in hand, and no acts of terrorism were committed that day.

So cut to the present. I am leaving the Flint, MI airport before dawn so I can return to my big city ways and the job that leaves me less than thrilled after my recent lecture. My flight leaves at 6am, so I try to check in at 5:27. Flint is not as small as the TinyTown airport I was using during xmas (aka Eureka, which has a total of 2 gates, and one of those is devoted solely to cargo), but it is still much smaller than the airport-cities that I am used to (see JFK or SFO). What I've forgotten is that tiny airports are stricter than my normal haunts. The airport guy tells me I am late to check in. He still gives me my boarding pass, but lets me know that the airline doesn't usually go in for those kinds of shenanigans.

I proceed to security after giving my Jay a kiss for temporary goodbye,. I take off my hat, coat, scarf, mittens, shoes, belt, and whatever else the TSA can think of that might be concealing dangerous weapons. (Seriously, if I was going to hijack a plane, why would I be leaving from Flint, MI?) I go through security, and everyone is a little cranky. They probably want to be here even less than I do, but at least they're getting paid for it. Then they stop my purse and ask me to step aside so they can rummage. What's this? My lotion, my one liquid item, is not in a clear plastic bag. I need to exit the area so I can get a bag for my one bottle of lotion, which is clearly marked and within all size regulations. Then I need to go through security all over again.

I believe my exact words were "Are you fucking kidding me?"
I told them that they let me through on my way out here, and the guard's very clever power-trip response was "Well I don't know where you come from, but we do things a bit different here." Of course my reply was "I'm from New York fucking City! Now give me my goddam lotion and let me on the plane!" (ok, so don't quote me on that. But did I mention it was still the wee hours of the morn?)

I was then escorted outside the security area by the guard, who would not give me back my lotion until we were a safe distance away from the other passengers. He must have known that I only had the short-range exploding lotion with me this time. So I walked to the gift store and waited "patiently" for the employee-ladies to stop gossiping and give me my stupid ziploc bag. Then I went back to security and once again removed all my accouterments. I heard the loudspeaker announce that my flight was boarding, but here I am having my ticket double quadruple checked with my ID. Apparently during this time they also paged me specifically, but I was too busy being pissed off to hear.

I walk up to the gate and the person already knows I'm desiree. I apologized for having to go through security twice because of my deadly deadly lotion and joined the other 5 (five!) passengers on my plane. Of course I was the last to board, so they were obviously waiting for me. The security guard had given me the option of throwing my lotion away (and by that I mean that he walked to the trash can and deposited my lotion accordingly until I began to argue that it was brand new and cost me $17 so I wanted to keep it) but I would rather have just missed my flight and gone back to sleep than deal with this crap.

Lesson: Don't mess with a cranky girl's lotion.