So the TSA can't tell the difference between a Glock and a Buck-Rogers ray gun. The TSA doesn't know that real ray guns don't exist and that confiscating a belt-buckle that looks like a ray gun is as stupid as confiscating a replica of Harry Potter's magic wand[1].
We all know that the TSA is staffed with morons who are in constant danger of looking up on a rainstorm and then drowning[2]. But this guy, having had to fight with one set of the TSA's sufferers of rectal-cranial inversion, wore his prized belt buckle on another flight. Where the odds were pretty good that he'd run into another TSA agent afflicted by a similarly-diminished understanding of reality. And so he did and this time, he had to give it up.
I'm not normally of the "blame the vic" mentality, but this time.... Jeez, guy! WTF were you thinking?
___________________________
[1] Because the kid could cast a spell and make the wings fall off. I hesitate to even snark about that, because the TSA is stupid enough to buy it.
[2] Hell, "TSA screeners are idiots" should be the opening part to one of GEICO's "did you know" commercials.
An Explosion Of Entitlement
4 hours ago
4 comments:
This is the same TSA whose goons have told me on three occasions that my prosthetic leg has to come off for screening. Each time I have had to explain to them--and their immediate supervisors--that their own policy says otherwise.
One even asked me once if I was "deliberately trying to be difficult".
I replied: "Yup. Sure am. And now I'd like to speak with your supervisor."
I eventually got cleared by the supervisor with my leg un-messed with, but it was only when I was half-way to the plane that I realized that in all the fuss, they'd forgotten to check the rest of me. Idiots.
Once I saw a guy with a tattoo of a gun. I wonder if the TSA would let him fly at all!
You don't have to be TSA, or even American, to be a stupid airport inspector. A few years ago, I tried to board a plane in Frankfurt, Germany. An inspector, going through my hand baggage, reached in and triumphantly yanked out a roughly two ounce spray bottle of prescription allergy medicine, something called Nasonex.
"What is zis?" she asked.
"Nasal allergy spray," I told her.
She held it up to the light, not very helpful because the bottle was opaque.
"What is zis fur? she asked.
"It says right on the druggist;s label. 'One puff per nostril each day for allergies.'"
She glared at the bottle. Then she glared at me. Then she glared at the bottle again. Then she glared at me a second time.
And then she said – I swear she said – You vill spray zis up your nose. Now!"
"I've already used it this morning," I told her. "I'm only supposed to use it once a day. It's prescription medicine."
"You vill spray zis up your nose now or you vill not get on the plane."
So I took the bottle from her and squirted some up my left nostril. Her expression turned - I'm not sure why - to a look of sheer horror.
I went to spray the right nostril and she yelled, "Shtop, shtop!"
"But you wanted me to...."
"Just shtop! Put sis bottle in the bag and get on the plane."
So I did. And that's the end of the tale except....
My personal theory about why she stopped me from taking a second squirt is, she was secretly afraid I would blow up the airplane by striking a match and lighting a sneeze.
Yours crankily,
The New York Crank
I wouldn't put it past some of them to confiscate the Harry Potter wand. Some people like that really think Satanists can put curses on people.
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