Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Supporting the war effort
Apparently, I support our President, because today I followed his advice “to go shopping more.” Yeah, that’s all we did today. Eat. Shop. Eat. Shop.
I needed clothes. My shirts have threadbare cuffs, my dress slacks are getting threadbare in the knees, and just the other week, one ripped clean through. I haven’t split the asscrack on any of my pants (lately), but only because I tend to wear the knees out first. Did I really need to spend this much money on clothes? Probably not, but I have a funky body. My neck is a 17.5, my arms are Lilliputian. When I find clothes that fit, I buy them.
Meanwhile, my son got his grandma to buy him a Roboquad. We were almost defeated by the packaging. Almost. Jake is downstairs now, trying to get the hotel staff to dig up a Phillips-head screwdriver so he can free Robie from his packaging base.
Jake to the TSA gal in the airport: “What do you mean I have to leave the water bottle? It’s water. See? I’m drinking it. Isn’t that proof enough for you that it’s a nontoxic substance?”
Nope, didn’t wash. I reminded Jake of all the Kafka he has read, and told him the TSA rules would fit well into any Kafkaesque bureaucracy. You would think that would convince my son to suppress his sense of humor, since TSA operatives are humorless by definition, but no. On the way to the plane, one of the agents said something condescending to him (he looks several years younger than his true age), and he replied, “No. I expect you to die, Mr. Bond.”
That worried me. Would TSA Dude interpret this as a threat and jail his twelve-year-old ass? But I guess Jake’s apparent youth saved him. The guy wrinkled his upper lip as we passed, grunting, “Nice kid.”
Thus far today: crappy eighteen dollar breakfast in the Hyatt’s restaurant (um, that’s the bill just for ME, got it?), crappy five dollar coffee from the Hyatt’s lobby, top notch die and go to heaven lunch at Amber India, shopping trip at the Stanford Mall, mandatory pilgrimage to Fry’s Electronics, where Jake scored his Roboquad. We haven’t decided on dinner yet.
It’s been fifteen minutes since Jake went off in search of a screwdriver. I wonder when I should alert the authorities?
D.
Don’t mess with the TSA. There was a story a couple weeks ago about a guy whose laptop they dropped and broke. They threatened to arrest him because he asked with whom he should file a complaint…
Love the robot. You cell phone called me back a second time. I was yelling but you couldn’t hear me. I could hear you. Very funny. As usual.
Dan: yeah, I hear ya. For an instant, I was certain we were doomed. Full cavity searches at the very least.
CD: we’ll have to bring the robot along. Quite a humorous beastie — they gave it some great mannerisms. Sorry about the phone calling you back; it does that sometimes. REALLY funny is when it calls my parents and they can hear me talking in the distance but I don’t answer them. Drives ’em nuts.
We’re getting Sassyface a Quad for X-mas this year. She’s got the roboreptile and has loved him, so when she saw the quad advertised she went crazy. They talk to each other too. I saw a vid where I guy hooked his quad up to a camera and was giving it commands via skype link.
We despair at the battery consumption.
Yeah, don’t fuck with the TSA. When I was coming back from Vegas, a guy a few places ahead of me had an expired passport. They where just going to turn him back, but he started to bluster and he was hauled out in cuffs. He didn’t even say much, and nothing that sounded even remotely like a threat.
There are few tyrants as absolute as the microtyrant who perceives that they have moral authority.
I honestly think I fear the TSA a whole bunch more than My morbid fear of flying. Then again this brings the old axiom to light…”Absolute power, corrupts absolutely”.
The whole customs/security thing was a real downer on our Canada trip in April/May. OK, make that US-and-Canada trip, as the US government insists on transiting you through the USA even if you are only passing thru the transit section of a US airport en-route.
It used to be that you just went straight to a transit lounge and waited for your connecting flight. But no, now George W Putsch has to have your immigration declaration photograph and fingerprints for a 5 minute stay.
And yet another “don’t fuck with the TSA”…I agree with Dean. I had athletic shoes with metal in them, and they got pissy about those when I made a “they’re just athletic shoes” comment. They took my brand new Oil of Olay jar just because it was the wrong ounce size. Jake got lucky.
Considering how much I HATE to fly, I have never had a bit of trouble with the TSA folks. They’ve always been really nice to me, even that one time I got patted down. See, I have a lucky barrette that I wear when I fly and it took a couple of times setting off alarms to realize I needed to run it through the x-ray machine so I wouldn’t get pulled off for a pat-down and personal scan. They even explained WHY it set off alarms, so since then, it’s been easy squeasy. One time I packed my sewing scissors – oops! – and they cheerfully let me go back to the ticket counter to have them put in my checked luggage. They’ve always been very, very nice to me, all of them, and I’ve really never understood why some people get so snotty, They’re just doing their jobs. The restrictions are posted, and it’s not that hard to follow the rules, no matter how arbitrary they seem.
One time, while traveling w/ my mother the chain smoker, she tried to sneak on a lighter in her jacket pocket. We were sharing a bin (jackets, purses, my laptop case) and they pulled it out of the scanner and called us aside. They just handed me my stuff without a second glance, while they made my mother empty out everything. She was pissed, I thought it was a hoot, especially since I’d spent the ENTIRE TIME IN LINE telling her she needed to toss her lighter. There were signs every freaking where about no lighters.
While they were ticking off my mom, I had a lovely and informative conversation with a TSA agent about how they could tell EXACTLY what jacket had the lighter (they knew it wasn’t me), how the walk through scanner works, what things they look for as people go through security… All great info for my hungry writerly mind.
Shrug. I REALLY TRULY hate flying, but security checkpoints have never been a bit of trouble. Every TSA agent in every city I’ve flown out of has been pleasant, friendly, and perfectly polite. Sure, they have that no-nonsense attitude, but, hey, it’s their job.
I wonder when I should alert the authorities?
Allow one hour for each year he took off your life with his airport shenanigans.
Lyvvie: so roboquad and roboreptile talk to each other? Trying to figure out the whereabouts of John Conner, no doubt.
Dean, that must be what saved us. No pediatric cuffs.
TauRaven, I’m not sure I understand the fear of flying. It’s the one time I’m not afraid, because for once my fate is completely out of my hands.
Ooooh, Sis, don’t bring those nasty fluids onto the plane! They’re afraid you might moisturize the flight crew.
Tam, no doubt they’ve read your books, and they’re afraid of YOU 🙂
SxK, he came back shortly after I finished this post. The front desk staff think he’s juuuust adorable.
Of course the desk staff think he’s adorable, Doug. He is!
As far as TSA goes, Steve got to work with them at an airport in KC a couple of years ago, but I’ve never met any of them personally, because I’ve never flown.
I almost had my first plane trip this summer. We were going to go to Mexico and build a couple of houses, but Steve broke his knee playing softball [dork] so we stayed home.
I wasn’t glad he broke his knee, but I was so relieved not to be flying, it was almost worth it. 😉
The TSA regulations about liquids are absurd. My husband says it would be totally easy to blow up a plane with a couple of vials of liquid that are less than 3 oz. each. The whole thing is just a way to make people believe they are being saved from something but it makes no sense whatsoever. As for joking with TSA agents, I echo the comments above. No sense of humor whatsoever.
Shelbi, Mauigirl, and the rest: have a great Thanksgiving. Have to work on the Thirteen now 🙂