While I was never actually a Girl Scout, I do carry a Swiss Army Knife in my purse because frankly, I like to be prepared.  I mean you never know when you're going to need a knife or a pair of scissors or a screwdriver or a corkscrew because the bar you're in has wine but no corkscrew (and yes - for the record, that's happened twice. Do you people not realize that I live in the sticks?)

The knife resides in an inner pocket in my purse, usually buried under a hairbrush, my glasses cleaning kit and my emergency pack of almonds, and I often forget it's there until I actually need it.  Or until TSA accuses me of being a terrorist.

So I boarded a plane in Charlotte on Thursday morning and flew to NYC for BlogHer. Thursday night I needed scissors to cut the tag off of something and I instinctively reached for my knife...which WAS IN MY PURSE. So clearly the Charlotte TSA peeps are not on their game because...THIS IS THE SECOND TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED.

Back in May I flew to Florida for work and no one in the Charlotte airport noticed the knife in my bag. It was only as I was going through security on the way back from Florida that they spotted the knife.  I should clarify that this is not a cheap, dinky, run of the mill Swiss Army Knife. It's heavy duty, nicer than pretty nice, and was a gift from a senior executive where I work. In short, it's irreplaceable and important to me. 

Of course, I'd rather stab myself then check luggage. Fortunately, it wasn't an issue in Florida because they have these nifty little kiosks where if you don't want to check your bags, you can pay an outrageous fortune to mail your illegal goods back to yourself. 

Back to BlogHer. So Thursday night I discovered the knife and basically I did nothing about it until Sunday morning at around 6am when I was furiously stuffing what SWAG I did manage to accumulate into my bag. I figured if I wrapped the knife in a bunch of clothes and shoved it in a shoe and buried it under more shoes and make-up bags and a Swiffer Duster and a mug and a water bottle and some socks and a scarf and a measuring cup, TSA wouldn't notice, right? RIGHT?

So for the record, I managed to get every single thing into my suitcase and my carry-on. There was to be no checking of the bags (which comes with a $25 price tag AND epic amounts of stress because OMG - will my bag make it?) - especially because I was going stand-by on an earlier flight.

My first issue was the whoreface bitch at security checkpoint #1 who told me my bag was too big and I'd have to check it. REALLY? It's too big? Because I have flown on exactly 671 flights with this bag and it's fit in the overhead compartment of every. Single. One. So unless we're flying on some kind of midget plane, I am pretty fucking sure my bag is going to damn well fit.  The other issue was that she had painted on her eyebrows to look like this:

Scary Eyebrows.jpg

Really.

And since you can't really argue with TSA (unless you want to get arrested) and since I couldn't deal with her supreme stupidity or her ugly ass eyebrows I went down to the other end of the terminal to another checkpoint where no one questioned the size of my bag.

Unfortunately, despite my careful wrapping and burying, my knife was spotted and there I am, beyond tired, stressed about flying standby, and the TSA agent is all: ma'am, we can either confiscate the knife or you have to check your bag.  And I'm like really? Because do I look like a terrorist or like someone who wants to pay $25 to check her bag? (I think what irritated me too was that she didn't give a shit about the illegal 7-oz. bottle of Oil of Olay body wash I was smuggling or the giant jug of Eucerin I'd scored.)

So I was forced to check my bag...which again...I was flying standby so yeah...likelihood of me AND my bag making the same bag felt slim to none.  And I had to pay $25 for the privilege. 

Of course, 10 minutes later I'm sitting at the gate flipping through Us and guzzling a Coke Zero feeling all kinds of stabby when it hit me: why the hell didn't I leave the knife at my mom's apartment and ask her to mail it to me? DUH.  Even worse? When I eventually got home to NC (and fyi both me and my bag made the earlier flight), I realized that I had left my phone charger behind. So mom has to mail me a package anyways.

2 Comments

I'm so damn impressed that you and your bag got on a flight that freaking early on Sunday....you do remember Saturday night right? Miss you already. When are you back this way?

all kinds of inconvenient to fly. It's not good for tourism or terr ism

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