I’ve been doing a lot of flying lately. No, I’m not going to do one of those anthropological traveler-type columns–at least not this time. This time, I have a bone to pick with the TSA. Some call them lazy, some call them worthless, some call them nothing more than legalized harassment.
I say these guys are heroes. They are on the front lines of homeland security, day in and day out. On top of this, they have to wear those extremely blue dress shirts as part of their uniform. Because of this, they thank us for not laughing at them too much. Sure, they make us take off our shoes, empty our pockets, make sure our laptop is in a separate tray and confiscate our lighters if they happen to be looking at the x-ray machine at that moment, but they also make us feel safer.
People are getting after them about their new body scan photography stuff and thorough pat-downs, I say do more, and do it to me.
In the past five days, I have flown on five different planes on three different journeys, and I still have one more later on this week. With all the controversy over federal employees being able to take naked pictures of you, or even touch your junk, I looked at my upcoming trips as a virtual certainty that I’d be showing the feds my most personal of characteristics.
This didn’t happen. For some reason, I managed to escape the new, more enhanced scans. I have to ask why. Why was it, TSA? What about this fine package don’t you like? Am I not sexy enough? Why don’t you want to see me naked?
Let’s be honest, I am not the sexiest man alive (I’m coming for you next year, Ryan Reynolds!). But I have a lot to offer. I’m whitty, I’m sensitive and I know how to treat a duly-appointed federal agent. I know a thing or two about romance, and while I may not be wearing skinny jeans, from my form, can you really be sure that’s not a stick of dynamite in my pants?
So, Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano, give me a shot. I promise you won’t be disappointed.