So I flew to Chicago yesterday. I departed GSP airport, which, since it’s relatively small, doesn’t have a full body scanner. What they do have, however, is an abundance of overpaid, gorilla-like TSA employees.
My bag set off some sort of alarm; apparently the machine doesn’t like small laptops and stacks of mechanical drawings. The screeners then informed me that a) they were going to search my bag, and b) they were going to search _me_. I’d been patted down at airport security before, but this time…it felt different. I stood on the foot markings, while the uniformed officer checked me out. _VERY_ thoroughly. He felt up my leg- all the way up. He reached around inside my trousers- all the way around. And every other part you can think to name. And some you might not.
After he’d finished, a woman who was apparenty in charge came over to watch them go through my bags. She said something to me (I honestly can’t recall, but it was fairly moronic) and I told her, idignantly, that I had just been felt up. She said “I bet you it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.” I was enraged. I had just been felt up- I mean, felt up, everywhere. I had been treated like a criminal, presumed guilty, been unreasonably searched, and this woman has the gall, the absolute gall, to stand there and tell me it probably wasn’t that bad?? I choked out “I’m not going to reply to that.” and she recoiled slightly, and scurried off.
I. Hate. Flying.