Air port security is most certainly serious business that should not be questioned, teased, taunted, molested, and certainly not ‘trolled’. Unfortunately by nature I am a creature that ruffles feathers and renders humans around me with a curiosity and confusion that will never be satisfied by the questions I leave behind.
I pack for destinations abnormally, finding accessories and knick knacks to take president over practical clothing. For a week expedition with my friends, my eclectic collections raised supicion and I my bag was quickly pulled aside for investigation.
The candles alarmed the TSA, interestingly enough. The fellow scanning the bag asked me if I had candles and informed me that it triggers an alarm because they can never be certain what the candles are made of. (Note: using explosive material in your candle or otherwise harmful gells could defeat the entire purpose of providing safe fire light in the dark.) The fellow called over an unsuspecting agent to take my bag and carry it away, unaware of what he may learn through his peek into my bag.
“Do you have any sharped or dangerous objects within your bag on which i might hurt myself?” He asks.
“No.” I answer simply. I'm fairly certain I'm only required to warn him of possible physical harm, psychological harm depends on his own frailty of mind.
He opens the bag and carefully folds my clothes to the side, searching for the candles when he came across a glass jar. A glass jar that holds a penis.
There is a silence between us, I’m sure he was expecting me to defensively claim, “It’s not what it looks like!” or immediately explain a perfectly logical explanation for why I had a penis in a jar stowed tenderly in my suit case.
You may wonder as well, you may have a variety of answers that you believe will tell you about who I am.
- Perhaps I am a mourning lover who endured the death of my partner and now carries his preserved penis everywhere I go- or perhaps he is not yet even dead, and this is simply the evidence of a particularly nasty break up.
- Maybe I am a secret agent, or mafia hitman, or an assassin who is carrying home the trophy of my latest victory to adorn my mantlepiece- or terrify the relatives with.
- Or possibly I have a dear gay friend who is somewhat of an insatiable gay beast and requires a regular consumption of penises through his anus in order to not unleash his hunger on the public. I alone hold the responsibility of penetrating the beast and sating him.
Regardless of your justifications as to why this is packed in my bag, what is most important is why the airport security agent believes i have this packed in my luggage. The curious mans hand moves to the side as his mind seems to register what he sees in front of him. He touches the bottom of the jar cautiously and slowly turns it over. The penis had been laying belly up in the jar and was now adjusted to be on it’s side exposing it’s obvious phallic identity.
We are still locked in silence, but now locked in a motionless state as well as he stares, unable to break his attention from the grand ‘prize’ within my luggage. An additional agent comes up behind him and reminds him of his duty. He hastily lifts out the candles beside the jar and pass them to the agent and they run the suitcase again. He wordlessly processes the bag and repacks the candles into it and I am soon on my way.
I never looked back over my shoulder but i could feel his eyes on me, staring as curiosity consumed him. I wonder for how long he wondered about what he had come across. I can only imagine if he is on duty the next time I go through that security gate, he will likely request for public safety that my luggage will be checked, and he will likely also request that he wont have to be the one to do it.
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