Last week was, like, maybe only the third or fourth time I’d ever flown without checking a bag, so I was looking forward to the experience of hopping out of my Uber at the curb and just breezing my way to the gate like most normies do.
I tossed my shoes, camera, and my gun burkha into a tray, my camera bag into another, and then slid both of those and my Maxpedition Fliegerduffel into the tunnel. Then I stepped through the porn-o-scan to await my gear so I could trot off to the gate.
They pulled the Fliegerduffel to the side for further inspection.
That was weird. I half expect them to pull the tray with my gun burkha, because it’s got my wallet and my wallet has a Sparrows Hall Pass and a lockpick card, both of which have drawn scrutiny in the past, but are devoid of sharp edges. My suitcase, though? Maybe they wanted to look at the trauma shears in the blowout kit attached to the MOLLE loops?
Nope, the dude opened the bag and pulled out my little toiletries kit. Nothing in there but some nail clippers and some tweezers, so…?
Friends, the dude pulled out my Secret solid antiperspirant and swabbed it with the bomb detector swab. Hand to God, I have never seen that before.
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| Holden is attached to the bag via MEOWLLE loops. |
As far as the return flight goes? Well, the less said about the seething mob of aberrant humanity I was trapped in for better than thirty minutes at the MSY security checkpoint, the better.
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