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Me: *gets in line for security with parents and hands over high school ID, birth certificate and boarding pass*
Guy: *looks at ID etc.* How old are you?
Me: (I have to remember how old I am…) 2...2...
Guy: Um…do you have a driver’s license or anything? Passport?
Me: No…but that’s my birth certificate.
Guy: It needs to be some kind of picture ID, like a driver’s license or passport.
Me: Um. (Translation: I DON’T HAVE THEM AHHH GO AWAY)
Mom: We’ve gotten on planes before with this---
Guy: It’s different here.
Me + family: Oh. (Translation: WHAT)
Guy: Go over here. *directs us to the part of security where they make you do more stuff*
Me: *suffers, mutters* (Translation: I’M GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF SOMEBODY HELP MEEEE)
I did not have to take my clothes off, haha. I’m such a big baby. I hear students traveling alone always get searched and stuff, and this is only the first time it’s ever happened to me. And the lady who patted me down could tell I didn’t know my head from my ass, at least in this situation. If she’d asked me if I have a bomb, I’d say, “Oh, yes, I bought this in New York, it’s got red beans and chestnuts in it and it’s very expensive but fresh.“
Certainly gave me a healthy twinge of that, “OMIGOD THEY DON’T LIKE ME ANYMORE” feeling. Er, you know, the certain feeling of entitlement/disgruntledness pretty innocent Americans feel and possibly express when asked to just go through some goddamn security. I think it’s like not being able to make people pay for something they used to get for free. I got on planes for years and years without all this hoo-hah and NOW they’re fussing? I LIVE here, you know!!!!! etc. No, I really felt that way! I just didn’t SAY anything. And I’m sure searching all those frail old people and pretty young girls who know where to eat yakitori will save us.
Other wonders of the modern world: I typed this entry and updated it all sitting here at the airport waiting for our plane. I'M A COOL HACKER NOW.
Guy: *looks at ID etc.* How old are you?
Me: (I have to remember how old I am…) 2...2...
Guy: Um…do you have a driver’s license or anything? Passport?
Me: No…but that’s my birth certificate.
Guy: It needs to be some kind of picture ID, like a driver’s license or passport.
Me: Um. (Translation: I DON’T HAVE THEM AHHH GO AWAY)
Mom: We’ve gotten on planes before with this---
Guy: It’s different here.
Me + family: Oh. (Translation: WHAT)
Guy: Go over here. *directs us to the part of security where they make you do more stuff*
Me: *suffers, mutters* (Translation: I’M GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE MY CLOTHES OFF SOMEBODY HELP MEEEE)
I did not have to take my clothes off, haha. I’m such a big baby. I hear students traveling alone always get searched and stuff, and this is only the first time it’s ever happened to me. And the lady who patted me down could tell I didn’t know my head from my ass, at least in this situation. If she’d asked me if I have a bomb, I’d say, “Oh, yes, I bought this in New York, it’s got red beans and chestnuts in it and it’s very expensive but fresh.“
Certainly gave me a healthy twinge of that, “OMIGOD THEY DON’T LIKE ME ANYMORE” feeling. Er, you know, the certain feeling of entitlement/disgruntledness pretty innocent Americans feel and possibly express when asked to just go through some goddamn security. I think it’s like not being able to make people pay for something they used to get for free. I got on planes for years and years without all this hoo-hah and NOW they’re fussing? I LIVE here, you know!!!!! etc. No, I really felt that way! I just didn’t SAY anything. And I’m sure searching all those frail old people and pretty young girls who know where to eat yakitori will save us.
Other wonders of the modern world: I typed this entry and updated it all sitting here at the airport waiting for our plane. I'M A COOL HACKER NOW.
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From:
no subject
How was the patdown? Was it every bit as humiliating as I would anticipate it to be?
From:
no subject
...Man, now I won't be able to look forward to plane trips anymore.
From:
no subject
Honestly, the NORMAL security is okay. Especially if you're BLINDINGLY American, they're just like, yeah whatever take your shoes off. (Wear shoes that are easy to take off. WEAR. THEM.) As awful as it sounds, I take it as an opportunity to smile at army types (the show up when it's busy) and other Fine Young Men.
From:
no subject
The patdown was really the easy part. The sucky thing was getting kicked out of the normal line in front of all the GOOD citizens. D'oh. Also the part where they ordered me around and told me to bring my stuff somewhere, but again, the lady who did it was nice and didn't seem to want to look at my privates or anything, so.