Excuse me, Mr. TSA man, I’m feeling a little frisky!

In spite of the fact that my family flies more frequently than the average pilot, I was oblivious to new TSA regulations.  Apparently, full body scans have been
implemented, and invasive pat downs are quickly becoming the norm in airport
security lines. I had no idea until I saw a rash of Facebook posts on the
subject.

I asked hubby, who makes at least 30 international flights a year, if he had noticed any
security changes. Has he been groped by good-looking TSA agents and neglected to
tell me? Is a scan of his nude body going to pop up on the internet? If so, I’d
like to know now.

I asked our teen daughters, who flew home from Washington D.C. just after the sniper attacks,
and one day after the procedures were implemented, had they been searched? My
thirteen-year-old was told that they couldn’t feel her up, errr…pat her down,
without parental permission.

I thought back to my most recent trips. It had been a treat to fly without my preschoolers. Maybe
in my excitement I hadn’t noticed being groped or photographed nude.

No, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that a good groping would have added to
my enjoyment of the trip. Hubby is gone a lot these days, so I’m not getting much
of that attention.

Come to think of it, I’m a little offended that no one offered. According to the posts I’ve been
reading, everyone is being subjected to these invasive searches. Why was I
exempt? It doesn’t seem fair that my friends are being manhandled, and here I fly
all the time and never got so much as a little fondle.

I know I’m getting older and things are sagging a bit. Granted, no TSA agents are going to
get much pleasure out of viewing my naked body scans, but still, couldn’t they
pretend? Couldn’t they have at least shown the courtesy of asking if I wanted
to go through the scanner? I’d suck in my belly, turn a little to one side, and
give my best come hither look. I’d make sure we all had a good laugh!

I don’t know why my friends are being mauled at security checkpoints, and frankly, I don’t know
why they’re complaining. I’m always up for a good frisking. I’ll even bring a
TSA approved 3 oz. bottle of K-Y in a quart-sized Ziploc bag. There’s nothing
like a cheap thrill to make a girl feel desirable. Throw in a little pinch and
I’m yours for the night. Or at least until my carry-on clears the x-ray machine.