excuse me mister?
It was midnight and I was standing in the waiting line to go through security at the Phoenix airport for the red eye flight back to New York. I had just finished throwing the 3rd FADER/Bacardi party in a row and was super tired and ready to sleep in my bed. Given the frequency I travel, I have quite the system for checking in and going through security. It’s clockwork. Little did I know this day would be different.
I place my stuff on the trays on the conveyor belt, go through the metal detector with flying colors and wait for my goods to emerge on the other side. Not sure where they find their midnight shift security at the Phoenix airport but these guys are, how do I put this, detailed. The man, who had this odd New Orleans meets West Coast accent, informs me that they need to check my bag because my jewelry looks weird. I told him it was just because my bobbles were awesome and if wanted to see them, he need just ask. I start to get annoyed and am ready to just get on the plane and begin my hours of discomfort. I was sitting in a “non-reclining” seat. 9F. Awesome. Yay.
I begin to gather my stuff and as I walk away the airport security duder shouts at me. This is how the conversation went…
mr. airport security of the year 2009: miss!! miss!!
me: (insert annoying look)
mr. airport security of the year 2009: miss!! your pannnies!
me: (insert look towards my lady part to make sure my panties aren’t all over the place)
mr. airport security of the year 2009: your pannnnies!!!
me: EXCUSE ME MISTER??? (laughter begins)
mr. airport security of the year 2009: you forgot your pannnnies.
me: what the….
mr. airport security of the year 2009: miss, your pannnnnies (as he points to 3 PENNIES in my tray).
me: OH!!!!!!!! (as I double over with laughter and disappear into airport terminal haze)
