The Boston Logan Airport may be the best airport in the world. It has free Wifi with desks that have power outlets and fairly comfortable swivel chairs. What? Yeah. That's right. I travel in style.
Currently, I am waiting for my flight (at said desk, using said free Wifi, and sitting in said swivel chair), but the tale I have to tell today is of going through airport security.
I suck at airport security. I accidentally leave things in my pockets, forget liquids in my carry-ons, and I'm bald so I look like a Neo-Nazi. It's great. WHITE POWER! Just kidding.
Anyway, while going through security, my backpack got caught up. I had a wrapped Christmas gift in it, and the thorough security people deemed it worthy of further inspection.
I was somewhat disappointed because they only rescanned the package. I was hoping they would have treated me suspiciously and then made me step into one of those body scanning machines. I didn't even go so much as patted down.
I should've . . . asked--no, begged--them to do the body scan on me. Then, when they relented, because of my suspicious behavior, I would have proudly stepped into the scanning machine and gyrated my hips while the machine worked its X-ray magic. Finally, I would have slapped my butt and blown the security officers a kiss while winking dramatically and asking "Like what you see?"
There is the risk that I would have been arrested and become special Christmas friends with a large, tattooed man named Spike or Butch, but those are the types of risks I'm willing to take in these imaginary scenarios.
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