Chairman Bao is a Shih Tzu. We travel a lot. I drive. He watches. We've logged at least 10,000 miles and he's never once said, Sweetheart, don't you think you should stop and ask someone?

Thursday, May 03, 2007


No, I didn't buy Bao a seat in First Class. It was unoccupied -- although not for long.

While I realize airport security measures are for our own safety, I think I'd feel a lot more confident if there was some uniformity. Every airport I've been through seems to have different machines, and different processes. The metal-detecting device at Tucson Airport is so sensitive that my bra fastener set it off and necessitated a full body search. (On the other hand, Bao's plastic water bottle went unnoticed and unemptied) Yet I passed through the metal detectors in Fort Lauderdale wearing two rings, a watch and a necklace and there was nary a beep, although they insisted upon undressing Bao and checking his balls. (That happened last time, too. What do you suppose they think I've hidden in his balls?)

The worst was Dallas Airport. It's not a nice airport to begin with, and we were stuck there for nearly six hours on our way to Florida, on account of the tornados. I decided to take Bao outside so that he could lift his leg, and when we came back, we had to go through security again. So I took off my shoes and my rings and put everything in the plastic container and walked through the electronic arch. Not a sound. Easy peasy.

Now I need you to pick up the dog and stand in the booth, the Security Person said.

It looked like a telephone booth, except that it was made of thick, clear plastic. You had to put your feet exactly on the footprints.

I need you to stay in the booth until the green light flashes, the Security Person said.

She threw a switch and all hell broke loose. We were buffetted on all side by blasts of air, so strong that they knocked my glasses off. And the noise! It was like being in a hurricane. Bao was terrifed, struggling and wriggling in my arms, trying to escape from the awful noise. And it went on and on and on. Even when it finally stopped, we had to stand there for another 10 seconds or so until the damned green light finally came on.

Why? Because my clothes were loose, and they wanted to make sure I didn't have a bomb taped to my stomach.

These days, air travel is about as much fun as a trip to the dentist.

You're wondering about yesterday's post. Test? What was I testing?

Tune in tomorrow.

2 Comments:

Blogger Dogwalkmusings said...

I haven't flown in a long, long time. I get so angry when treated like a common criminal by someone with a sub-zero I.Q. The whole process is ludicrous! You're post does nothing to change my mind!

Now if we can only get those gas prices down!

4:53 PM

 
Blogger Betty said...

I don't like the Dallas airport, either. Come to think of it, I don't like Dallas, priod. After your vertical MRI, did you ask them if they saw any tumors or anything?

1:25 PM

 

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