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La Dee La Dee Da

I stared at my own nether regions on the security TV. Had I smuggled in a gun? Maybe I’d accidentally worn a metal chastity belt? Whatever was down there was glowing red like the eyes of a devil she-wolf creeping through the underbrush….

The airport had caught me.

This trip to Ohio had gone well, and we were on our way home, making multiple layovers and eating way too much airport food.

And now this.

“Is there anything in your pockets, ma’am?”

Guilt swept through my body like a steam roller through my grandma’s garden. Why? WHY had I ignored the hair tie and thin paper receipt when they’d asked me before I stepped through the scanner? I didn’t think they mattered. Does a machine care about a small piece of paper or a tiny bit of elastic? I’d thought they were insignificant, like a piece of fluff on a sweater or a small smudge on a shoe. I felt like a criminal. How could I have neglected to completely empty my pockets? The machine was punishing me for sure.

I guiltily handed them over.

I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll have to search you.

I stared at her.

She stared at me.

Heck yeah, you have to search me. I thought, nodding appreciatively as I moved over to where she indicated.

I’d check me out too. I looked guilty as heck. The kind of guilty that Alcapone wore so off the cuff, but I wore like a 12-year-old caught with their hand in the bag of mini peanut-butter cups.


I felt like stripping right then and there. No way was I getting on a plane if I’d unintentionally strapped a bomb to my skivvies.

Now the following part is the moment I’ve heard of. The one that gets on the news about how some poor little kid got searched. Some poor grandma suffered a heart attack while being accused of hiding stuff under her Mumu.

It was the “Pat Down” from H-E-double hockey sticks.

I was thoroughly prepared to blush. To want to crawl into a hole. To have tears fill my eyes like an almost breached dam.

What I didn’t expect was to totally love the experience.

It was like getting a massage, but free-er. Like the airport had hired a masseuse and randomly decided who should get this luxury amenity.

It was me! I got it. Woohoo.

I decided to enjoy the experience. I imagined myself at a fancy resort. Wow, my husband had just surprised me with a morning massage by the onsite professional masseuse.

So relaxing! It was like being a princess and having servants fawn over you, except the instructions were slightly different.


“Lift your foot my lady.”

But rather,

“Spread your legs more. .. More than that.”

She was very descriptive. Detailing exactly where her hands would go and exactly what she was up to down there. I kept my eyes on the horizon.

La dee la dee da

It’s just a sponge bath from my servants so I can go to the royal ball tonight.

No big deal.

I noticed that the lady getting searched beside me only got a cursory search, like armpits and waist. Her glowing arsenal must not have looked as nuclear as mine.

People there were hands inside my pants.


He he, it kind of tickled.

What a fantastic trip this was. So relaxing…

The only thing that could have made it better was to have them do the search horizontally. I should have asked for a complimentary frosted lemonade on a table beside me and a quiet fan blowing citrus-scented air in my direction. Standing massages are never quite as good as the ones where you lay down on a soft massage bed, cucumbers on your eyes, and warm massage oils working their way into your soul.

She was efficient, that’s for sure. It didn’t last nearly long enough.

Like, come on. My feet are still sore. You barely approached my feet. They need a much more thorough rubdown lady.

I’m sure this would have been much more embarrassing if I hadn’t already birthed five children. Birthing a human makes you realize that your body, while sexy to your husband, is also a workhorse. It is capable of incredible feats, and sometimes it needs a tuneup, and with a tuneup comes an inspection.

Sometimes that inspection happens in a labor and delivery room, and sometimes at the airport.

But it’s a lot “free-er” at the airport… just saying.

One Comment

  • Holly Jackson says:

    I like how you turn a negative experiences in to a positive all the time. But I want to know did the hair tie really set off the alarm or were you caught with a hidden gyn 🔫

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