It’s a good thing I’m ok with getting felt up in public in public because the security check I have to go through with TSA is borderline second base.
With the normal removing of shoes, bags and pocket fodder, I have to go through a special pat-down because of the wheelchair and my inability to walk through metal detectors.
While all my stuff is going through inspection, I am physically being taken to a special area (unfortunately not private, everyone gets the chance to see this, it’s great).
In the special area a female TSA agent literally feels me up, top to bottom, front and back, side to side. The only people who have known me better are my husband and my ob/gyn and even they had to tell me their name first.
The do swabs of of my chair, some have mirrors they run under my seat.
The first time Peter and I went through Atlanta airport we didn’t know what to expect. The agents did the swabs and NO SHIT they had to hold us and run a bunch of other tests because I tested positive for bomb residue ON.MY.FOOT.BRACE.
Because all the savvy terrorists are using orthotics these days. The FBI never expect the handicapped.
I take it all in stride. I don’t get irritated with them and we laugh through the process. The agents are generally very friendly.
Well. I guess they have to be, considering where they just stuck their hand.