"Packing" for Denver

OK so this will be one of those rather revealing posts but since I can very easily see the hilarity in it I'm going to share it with you. (Whoever 'you' may be.)

I went on a mojo-restoring trip to Denver this weekend to see an old hookup. As I was preparing to pack I polled a few friends on what I should do about the sensitive subject of the uh... 'personal items' I was taking with me on the flight.

My friend C said, "Hell, take them in a carry-on bag and if you get searched, look them straight in the eye without a hint of embarrassment as if to say, 'yeah- those are my dicks. What of it?"

My frisky Denver recipient of the visit said, "Dude- just check your bag."

My roomie said, "Hmm, I wouldn't want to take the chance. Best to check it."

I ended up thinking that would indeed be the best option. Not that checked bags don't get searched, but at least I wouldn't be standing there when it happened.

I checked the bag on the way to Denver with no incidents but it cost an extra 15 bucks. Phooey.

So, on the way back I decided to try for carry-on with my bag.*

*Oh, for those who wonder- yes, awesome time in Denver. Mojo restored big time. :)

Anyway, so the airport in Denver is really crowded and I hate going through security anyway. I feel like there must be a big visible thought-bubble floating over my head saying 'this woman has something to hide'. I'm fumbling with the backpack with my laptop computer, my coat (which has become way too warm to wear inside but I'm stuck with it on) and the dreaded bag with the 'stuff'. Then, about 10 yards from the security conveyor I see this sign saying all your liquids have to be in a clear plastic bag carried separately from your luggage. (Why Austin didn't insist on this I'll never know) I take one of the ziplocks and then kneel on the floor trying to pull out all the travel toiletries from my bag. Dammit! Why did I take the cute little shampoo and conditioner from the hotel? So here I am, rifling through my bags on the airport floor, people stepping over me and of course at this point, I'm sweating like a whore in church. I finally seem to locate all my travel stuff, throw it into the bag and then negotiate the strip-down, taking off my shoes and belt and coat (thank goodness) in addition to pulling out my laptop and lastly, putting the 'dangerous' carry-on onto the conveyor. I walk through the metal detector without setting off any bells or whistles, start grabbing for my things and then I hear the horrible declaration from Homeland Security:

"Bag check. Bag check."

My bag.

Of course MY bag.

I stand rooted to the spot, barefoot, pants sliding down my butt, heart thudding, looking for all the world like a dykey, disheveled very-nervous terrorist.

I watch the security guy grab my bag. Then toss it aside. Then pluck from the conveyor my plastic baggie of 'liquids'. He unzips it, pulls out my full-sized, incredibly threatening...

tube of Colgate.

"I'm sorry Ma'am. This is over 3.5 ounces. We can't let you go through with this."

In stunned disbelief I mumble, "O.K, you can keep it."

They shove everything else toward me and I hurriedly reassemble my belongings and sprint for my airline gate, silently thanking my sex-positive guardian angels and being very glad I still have a few xanex in my pocket for the flight.