I love airplanes. I even love airports. I make up stories to tell the poor bastard in the seat next to me. There's nothing like a captive audience.
I don't love the Transportation Security Administration.
The last time my sister flew, she got caught with 17 lighters in her purse. The TSA agent asked her if she was aware that she was carrying 17 lighters. "I'm a smoker," was all she could say. I thought that Kleptomania would have been a better explanation.
I was worried about the amount of dental floss that I had in my carry-on. I walked through the metal detector without any complications, but my bag was stopped. The agent dumped out the contents of my purse. Humiliated, I tried to explain the panties. He avoided eye contact and fished out my tweezers.
I have a few obsessive-compulsive behaviors. Body hair grooming is one of them. I forgot to remove the tweezers before I got to the airport. I use professional tweezers. I had to get licensed and bonded to purchase them. I showed him my credentials. The agent was not impressed. They were confiscated and tossed into the bin with the other contraband items. I protested. He also took the panties.
The first thing I did when Mom picked me up at the airport was demand that she take me somewhere to have my brows waxed. I would not be able to face my home town without proper eyebrow care. I told her what had happened to my tweezers.
"What do they do with all that stuff?" she asked. I told her that they sell everything back to the public for profit. She was outraged. Mom thinks that the items should be donated to the homeless. She has a point. I think that if the homeless had tweezers, they could probably find affordable housing.
Tweezers have the power to change lives. I would probably still be on the streets if I had never had my brows shaped.
I am flying home today. I have already called the beauty supply store to make sure they have my tweezers in stock.