Flying while black

Out of consideration for others, I tried to keep my Pre-Travel Freak Mode Dance to myself this time. I just came home from a week in Arizona. Eight days, really, since I got there very early on a Wednesday and left very late on the following Wednesday. I pay my dog sitter by the day, so I know how many days I am away. I arrived home early on Thursday morning, so it was a nine-day trip to him.

There are a lot of stories from this trip. Some are happy, some are funny, some aren't. I came home very tired and haven't perked up much yet, so I am just going to tell one little story tonight.

On the way home (sure, let's start at the end), I was in line at the security check at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix. This time I was better prepared to half-strip down naked, get my computer out of the case and out of the sleeve and my shoes off and my phone out and everything potentially explosive, like lippy, into a small baggie.

My shoulder has really improved in the last two weeks. I can now put the dishes away in stacks - not just one at a time with my left hand. Such progress!

I worked very hard at getting everything liquid or gel into that baggie. Remember, last time I was almost strip searched because I forgot to hand over the perfectly packaged baggie in my struggles with the sling on my arm while trying to get everything on the counter for the security people?

I made sure that baggie was in clear sight. I took off everything necessary - purse, shoes, phone, jacket. I had my ID and boarding pass in my hot little hands. My feet were bare. Yuck. I remembered I was wearing an ankle bracelet, but figured it was small enough not to beep, since my watch doesn't. I smiled engagingly at the security lady.

No beeps, no threats, no harrassment. How boring. As I started to try to collect my stuff from the moving belt, I hear, "Whose bag is this?" I think, "Oh, shit." Who else's could it be?

The lady behind me speaks to me softly, "It has to be mine."

I was curious. "Why?"

"Because they will profile me for Flying While Black."

"Oh, OK. Good. I figured it was me."

We both look back to see who owned the bag being waved around.

It was me.

She looked mad. What could I do but smile? I was Flying While a Redhead. She shrugged, grabbed her stuff, and took off, leaving me literally holding the bag.

I shuffle up to the next security lady and look guilty. I ask if I may put on my shoes. She said of course, and she was very sorry, and obviously I do not look like a terrorist and they should be profiling and may she look in my bag and is there anything in there that is dangerous or might hurt her?

"Thank you, and no. I have no idea what came up, but I tried hard to pack correctly."

"Maam, I am sure you did. I am very sorry for this delay. We shouldn't be bothering people Like You." (Redheads? Short people? Michiganders? White people? Beagle owners? Condo dwellers? People who speak only American plus about 12 words of Spanish?)

She then pulls out my travel-sized mascara and a very tiny, almost empty, sample-sized bottle of make up remover. They are so small I had missed them when checking for potential explosives. She looked embarrassed. I was embarrassed. She put them in a second baggie for me (I thought we were only allowed one?), apologized a few more times, and that was that.

I walked off with as much dignity as one can have after being searched again, and headed to the bar. Last time, nothing was open and I had to use a drinking fountain to take medications. Ewwww.

Beer works much better. I sat down next to the Flying While Black lady and we had a good laugh. I asked her what she does - she is a sports referee.

Yikes. I behaved myself. I followed all the bar rules, too.

Do I really look subversive?