That Evil TSA

I've flown on the airlines recently. Amid all the hullabaloo about the Patdowns the TSA is doing to beef up security at the airports. I, thank goodness, was not stripped of my shirt like that little kid the TSA Agents wouldn't let through. I didn't get my "junk" patted down like that one guy who decided not to fly, or was he not allowed to fly? Not sure. I guess it depends on who you ask.

But when I came home from DC I had to go through one of those new-fangled scanners. I've been through them before without incident. No pictures showed up online of my image. No one stopped me and requested a full body search. I've gotten pretty lucky so far. I guess I'm not old enough to fit the "Grandma" stereotype that always seems to get frisked.

But when I came out of the scanner waiting to be cleared for my flight home, I saw the guy talk into his radio and walk off. And then a female employee approached me. Oh, that's not good, I thought.

"We're gonna have to do a patdown. Just the top half," she told me.

What?? I'm not wearing anything weird that would show up on the scanners, I thought.

She did a quick patdown. It was fine and not even slightly embarrassing or exciting. Made me kind of wonder what all the buzz was about.

When Olaf caught up with me I told him about the patdown, he'd been in a different lane. He asked if I knew what was suspicious looking. By this time I'd had a little time to think about it.

I decided it was my super-duper padded, add-a-cup size bra. Nowadays with all the boob jobs the TSA Agents don't know what all that padding in a bra looks like.