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How I Hate the TSA, Let Me Count the Ways

I was traveling from Salt Lake City to Los Angeles last Thursday. And it took over 45 minutes in line for my grope-and-grin experience with the TSA. Three let-us-see-you-naked machines; only one was open…despite plenty of TSA agents standing around doing, well, pretty much nothing.

Finally got to the “Papers, please” checkpoint.

“How are you doing today,” the government agent cheerfully inquired.

“I’ve been standing in line for 45 minutes; how do you think I’m doing,” I replied dryly.

“Well, the good news is we’re only doing three pat-downs today,” the government agent joked.

I was not amused…and he knew it.

“Sorry; bad joke,” the government agent offered.

“No, the bad joke is the TSA,” I replied.

To which HE was not amused.

On the other hand, the crack TSA agent in Los Angeles for my return trip to Las Vegas on Sunday successfully caught and blocked me from carrying about 4 ounces of Listerine Cool Mint mouthwash onto the plane.

I was not amused.