Here's the skinny: they searched my one and only bag at the initial security screening at SFO. I make it to my gate one hour early. For the first time, I jumped in line right away when they said "We are now boarding all rows." I was probably the fifth person in line. The attendant scans my ticket and a
flashing screen comes up with a buzzing noise. He says, "Sir, you will need to go through some additional security screening." He calls for security on the overhead P.A. system and I sit in a chair and watch others board the plane. A security guard comes running out of breath down to where I'm sitting. He wands my entire body. He looks at every single item in my bag, empties the bag, feels my legs, my underarms, looks at the bottom of my feet -- he even looks down my pants. Halfway through the search he asks, "Is it okay if we do this here?" With my arms outstretched like a peasant in an Diego Rivera painting I say, "Yeah sure, it's all right."
Fucking nine eleven.
