TSA Is Just Alright With Me

I hadn’t been home to western Nebraska for Thanksgiving since my last semester of college six years ago. So we decided to make the trip (a flight to Denver then a three-plus-hour drive to Lewellen) this year.

In the days leading up to our departure last Wednesday, the news was filled with horror stories about a little government agency called the TSA. Air travelers were warned they would come up against a two-headed security beast: One could choose to face the Scanner (which captures essentially a nude image of the Scannee) or that guy in the photo, the Pat-down Man (aka Groper, Fondler or Happy Ending-er).

We had a 6 a.m. flight, so we woke at 3 and got to the airport at 4, thinking a full two hours would be needed with the holiday crowd. Instead, we found Hartsfield-Jackson airport to be all but empty. We walked right up to the front of the security checkpoint, not a soul in front of us.

Things took a turn for the interesting as we passed our shoes, coats and carry-on bags through the X-ray. Luckily, the Scanner was blocked off (one threat down!).

But after I walked through the metal detector, I looked back and could see two TSA agents puzzling over a bag on the X-ray screen. It was my bag. And in the middle of it was a large, solid, rectangular mass. Just a day before leaving, I had received a shipment of the new Pinocchio, Vampire Slayer and the Great Puppet Theater. So I’d packed up 20 or so to take home and give to relatives. On the X-ray, the stack of books looked like a brick of C-4.

One of the TSA agents turned to me. “Is that your bag?” I said it was. He pulled it off the conveyor belt and headed for the table where they root through luggage. “It’s books,” I offered, trying to be helpful. “What kind?” “Comic books.”

The agent gave me a curious look. Uh oh, I thought, here comes the Pat-down Man.

He pulled out the stack of books and picked one up. He opened it, and then he began to flip through it. He looked up. “You wrote this?” I nodded. He turned toward the other agent, still at the X-ray scanner. “It’s a comic book! He wrote it!”

The agent put the books away and said they looked cool. I thanked him and started to reassemble, pulling on shoes and coat, stuffing wallet, keys and phone back in pockets. Before I could finish, I looked up to see the two agents talking. The first agent walked back over. “Can I show him?” he asked, pointing to his fellow agent, still stuck at the X-ray scanner. “Uh, sure.”

The first agent grabbed a copy and took it over. I noticed the X-ray conveyor belt had stopped moving. The two agents flipped through the book, looking at it. After a few seconds, the first agent started to bring the book back. “Is it for sale?” he asked. I nodded and said it was on Amazon — as well as the first book in the series. The second guard stood up from his post at the scanner. “I can find it on Amazon?” I nodded. “Write the name down,” he said to the first agent, who by that time was repacking my bag for the second time.

“Do you have a card?” the first agent asked. I didn’t (man, I really need to get cards made), so I reached into the bag and grabbed a copy. “It’s cool, he can just have one,” I said, holding it out to the first guard. “Can you sign it?” he asked, holding out a pen.

So, with the whole security line shut down, I signed a copy of the book (“For Doug, the best TSA agent in the world!”) before venturing off in search of our gate.

When we arrived in Denver, we saw a man walking around with a Big Gulp in one hand and a sheet of printer paper stuck to his chest. END THE TSA, it read in huge letters, ASK ME HOW, much smaller below that. I wanted to walk up to the guy and tell him to knock it off. TSA employees are just regular folks, doing their job and trying to keep travelers safe.

Plus, some of them like comic books.