Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Hair Terrorism


I step back, run my hands through my pockets, turn some of them inside out to show they're empty, and try again.

The courtroom security officer waves me through the metal detector again and I step through.

Beep beep.

Ugh.  I need to get to my trial, but instead, I'm doing the hokey pokey with the metal detector.

The officer keeps looking at me with an annoyed face, clearly convinced that I must be loaded with all kinds of contraband and dangerous weapons.  The line forming behind me is now convinced I'm an idiot, I'm sure.  I continue the charade a couple more times.

Finally, he pulls out the handheld wand and scans me with it.  (Wait a minute!  You just NOW pulled that thing out?)  The wand alerts on the left breast pocket of my suit.  The officer asks, "Do you have anything in there?  I've checked the pocket three times already, but I stick my hand in there again.

This time, I feel something metallic.

One of my daughters had stuck a flat metal barette in my pocket.  And so, folks, the system grinds to a halt on account of a metal barette.  It has broken through the seam, and is barely hanging on before dropping into the liner.  I finally grab it and am able to pull it out.

The barette was taken into custody without further incident.


North said...

It is for the children.

Wait - it was FROM the children. Your daughter is now on the no-fly list.

Rev. Paul said...

North beat me to it. :)