Saturday, December 31, 2016

Oh the places you'll go! In the germ-ridden cold and frost-biting snow.

We took Goomba to Chicago, where we all got sick yet again, but I think Goomba had a cognitive development spurt in spite of it because now she insistently repeats a word for both shoes and tissues - "sheez." She also learned how to "blow her nose" by putting a piece of paper or any available cloth (usually her sock) to her nose and aggressively snotting into it. I think we're pleased with the progress, though it's a bit sad that her milestones all revolve around the accoutrements of colds, evidently in imitation of the constant words and actions of her parents.

On the way home, I was flagged down by TSA for carrying a bomb in my orange, and subjected to multiple pat-downs and tests and re-tests of my belongings, which kept eliciting a blinking red bar from the machine reading, "EXPLOSIVES DETECTED." Yet it all looked so innocuous! Diapers, wipes, baby crackers, snack cup. Which one was the explosive? Many procedures had to be followed, which mostly involved being escorted back and forth between various cubicles in the security area. The woman who had detected my explosives missed her break because she "could not leave my passenger," which resulted in a Kafka-esque conversation between her and the agent who'd come to replace her for her break. 
"But what are you doing with her?"
"For what?"
"I don't know; the rules just say to wait. I can't leave until I'm done waiting." 
Finally, a certified explosives expert was brought in to find my bomb. He asked if I had any "organics," pulled out an orange I'd brought for the flight, and said, "Oh, it's just this. The machines can't tell the difference between food and explosives." Fortunately, we had come early to the airport so were not in danger of missing our flight on account of the explosive orange detection process. We then ate the orange without further incendiary incident.

So now we're back in Utopia, where it's at least 10 degrees warmer than Chicago, which really makes a much bigger difference when you're 31 and have to tote a kid in a puffy coat that doubles her size around than it ever used to.


Emily Hale said...

This made me laugh--I can't leave until I'm done waiting.

They seem to be targeting mothers (who have got to be the lowest risk, right??). They checked my hands with their bomb-detecting checkers (which made my hands smell like puke), as all our stuff stacked up outside the x-ray machine. Even though we have pre-check, which I thought was supposed to eliminate the harassment. But no.

Miss Self-Important said...

I've always gotten the hand scans when I've carried her through the metal detector, which is always, since she can't walk yet. I assumed this was just standard. But this time, it was the diaper bag that got things going.

Ponder Stibbons said...

I brought a pomelo (a citrus fruit about the size of 4-6 grapefruits) on carry-on luggage this winter break. Passed through without incident. It seems odd that they can't tell an orange from a bomb but that a much bigger citrus fruit is innocuous.

Miss Self-Important said...

I really don't know what that show was about. I also travel with fruit in my bag all the time and have never been stopped before.