Last week, I wrote about a friend who had no clue she was about to receive a TSA pat down at the airport until she was under the scanner. She was the injured party of her male counterpart.
Then there’s Beverly who always knows she is going to get a pat down.
Beverly is a mature woman who has a pacemaker and two titanium knees. Her mere presence has the potential to set off microwaves, halt traffic lights and skew navigational equipment on an airplane. She knows if she goes to the airport, she is going to set off alarms previously unknown to the TSA.
- Does she gripe, whine and cause a ruckus or scream about the invasion of privacy?
- Does she rant that the government violates her first amendment rights?
- Does she blame Obama?
- Does she pontificate about Eric Holder eroding the rights of private citizens?
Beverly doesn’t give a rip what anyone thinks.
She embraces the occasion and provides laughter to those waiting in line. At a small town southern regional airport, the TSA agent was especially respectful of Beverly’s age and painstakingly explained every step of the procedure before she palpated a body part. The TSA has not developed a training manual to prepare agents for Beverly. Maxine and Aunty Acid would have to retire if she chose to compete.
As the agent patted and probed, Beverly commented on the libidinous aspects of the procedure. At one point, she told the agent, “I haven’t been touched THERE, since my husband died”. Beverly is not easily discouraged; she asked for the agent’s phone number and if she was free on Thursdays. The agent abandoned attempts to maintain a proper decorum as she stifled laughter. If Beverly had been sporting a bomb, the agent would never have discovered it; this was probably the most fun she was going to have all week.
As for Beverly, she enjoyed a cigarette and a glass of wine afterward and looks forward to her next trip.
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Categories: Biased, Unbalanced and Politically Incorrect
I am a lifelong Southerner, short story author, and essayist. Home is Dallas, Texas.
My essays have appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, The Dead Mule School of Southern Writing.