So to start off with - In case you don't already know, I live on the other side of the country from most of the rest of my family. Literally - the opposite coast. About twice a year, I head that way to visit them for a few days... you know the usual. Spend some quality time with my Dad, try desperately NOT to fight with my mother, try to figure out which stories my brothers and I haven't told our mother yet in order that we may mortify her yet again with tales of the horrors we used to exact upon each other... you know, the standard holiday with family. Generally these trips are, almost like clockwork are one in the winter, sometime near the holidays and the other in May. For some reason it's just worked out that way.
But the one thing that I NEVER do, is fly on holiday weekends. Too many people, too much hassle, too many stupid douchebags overrunning what is usually a rather easy security check at the airport. For several reasons, which I shall not go into here, my trip this year has fallen on Memorial Day weekend. (Yes, Dave, that and my subsequent discomfort resulting in the timing of my trip IS your fault.)
I arrived this morning at the airport, with what is USUALLY a good amount of time. Plenty in fact, to check my bag, get through security, secure a triple latte from the airport coffee vendor and a bottle of overpriced water from one of the many newsstands in the terminal and be at the gate, with enough time to spare to queue up my current favourite playlist on my iPod in order to drown out any aeroplane chatterboxes and make it clear to them that I am NOT interested in speaking to them nor do I give a rat's ass where they are going or who they're off to visit.
I hit the security line at approximately 720 am. My flight was due to depart at 910 am. And after getting shuffled through the maze of temporary ropes and sectioned into queues based on who paid more for their tickets (truly - United Airlines lets first class passengers through the security area as priority), I took my place in line to wait for the security check. And there I stood. I did not move. I did not step forward. I did not progress. I did nothing. But I did notice at about 750 after I had been standing in one spot for half an hour, that the TSA agents were being very careful to make sure that passengers whose flights were due to board soon were being pulled out of line and given priority. So no worries. It's crowded, but no one is missing a flight and the TSA agents are being fair and reasonable and nice about the situation.
And then I hear the voice. You know that voice. That ONE voice over the din of many who has taken it upon herself to start to state the obvious repeatedly to anyone who will listen and very LOUDLY that they have been so put upon because THEY got here an hour ago and THEY haven't moved since. THEY are stuck in this line and why aren't the TSA agents doing something about it. The answer is a simple math equation - 5 XRay machines, 3 ID checkpoints, and 200 passengers. You do the math. It's gonna take some time. Suck it up and deal.
Now most of us are quiet. Simply minding our own business. Patience is learned at airports. In my case - these are the thoughts going through my head - "Okay, so I got here early enough I thought. Maybe I should have left a little earlier. I wonder why it's so crowded this morning, this isn't usual. Oh crap, it's a holiday weekend. Dammit. I'd forgotten about that. I hope I get through soon, I really need a coffee, but at least the TSA people are making sure that we all get through with enough time to make our flights, even if we do have to stand here for a bit longer than I would like. I hope I have time to get a latte." These are the normal thoughts for a caffeine deprived person at an airport who is watching the clock tick and not moving and starting to wonder if I would have to run to my gate, because damn my laptop bag is heavy and that would be a suckfest to have to run.
And I hear the voice again. This time the voice has begun attempting to recruit persons from the line to instigate a revolt of some sort. The voice is starting to loudly berate the abilities of the TSA workers, though not directly to anyone, just in general making those "oh I think I am so clever" attempts at pointed comments that THEY assume everyone else will and must agree with.
I feel sorry for TSA agents. Yeah, they may not be the best at their jobs, but they do seem to try. Everyday they face hundreds of jackasses who for some reason think that they are special and that they do not have to leave enough time to get through security but should be given priority anyway upon reaching the long line because once their mother told them they were a good person.
I started to wonder... I started to wish... if this douchebag bitches loud enough, maybe security will escort her out of the airport altogether. And this is where I have the epiphany. What if airports were more like bars? Security people who looked like bouncers wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. The douchebag in question would never have started this tirade if the end result was meeting with the angry face of a bald, thick-necked reject from UFC training school, now would they? I think not. For that matter, a number of possible terrorists probably would rethink their career paths if they were dealing with security agents who looked more like John Cena than Paul Blart.
I think this may be the answer to all of our problems. Let's have TSA and airport security teams be peopled by men and women from the UFC and GLOW. Let's have our ID checkpoint staffers look like the doormen from Les Deux because they won't give a shit that you may have to stand in line a little longer - you're just not famous enough or hot enough for them to care. And if you do try to mouth off to these men, they will simply put you down. I mean literally. On the ground. And hold you there. Just because they can. (And I would laugh.)
Maybe then, the douchebag behind me will just shut the fuck up and be patient like the rest of us. Because I can stand being a little late, having to skip getting my coffee and being made to run like Seabiscuit through the terminal to make my flight... but what I can't stomach is another self-important douchebag wanna-be Real Housewife of Orange County earworming me for the better part of an hour about how she's too damn important to wait.
Bite me, Bitch. I hope your fake tan gives you a horrible skin rash that ruins the rest of your holiday weekend the way you have ruined my morning.
XO
The Tank Gyrl
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