We gathered at a restaurant the night before (which shall go unnamed, but the initials are Cheddar's), where my love squealed with delight at seeing friends we hadn't seen in over thirty years (except for our respective roommates, who married each other, and with whom we had kept up over the years).
She breezed into Mercer's Newton Hall, site of the infamous Berry-Coppage nuptials thirty-two years ago, without a hitch the next day. She squealed with delight as she saw friends she hadn't seen in over twelve hours. It was last night all over again.
As I strolled in behind her, a burly woman (I found out later her name was Butch) looked me over and said, "Not so fast, bud. Please walk through the body-scanner before entering."
Now, I realize I may be a little rough around the edges, but a FULL BODY SCAN at a REUNION? Please. No, really, please.
As I passed through the body scanner, and Butch perused all my most private, prized possessions, I wondered silently, What the...?
"Please, sir, no profanity. This is a former Baptist Institution of Higher Learning."
Butch could read my mind? This would not end well.
"Sir, please exit the scanner and step to the side." As countless other former BSUers waltzed right on in (well, not exactly, since we all know God didn't put no praying knee and dancing foot on the same leg), I was being pushed around by a woman on a college campus. Deja vu. All over again.
"Sir, I'll have to do a pat-down to make sure you're not carrying any concealed weapons or the King James Version of the Bible."
No. And again I say, No. No pat-down, no strip-search, no body-scans, no nothing. In the words of that great theologian Oz: "Not no way, not no-how."
I ran--RAN--toward the barbecue sandwiches and tater chips, daring anyone to stop me.
My future daughter-in-law will be flying in to Atlanta tomorrow from Orlando for Thanksgiving, "National Opt-Out Day" at airports nationwide. I'm sure the TSA will demand to scan/search her since she is so obviously a threat to national security, being a
The philosophy behind all this nonsense reminds me of what a preacher once said about the beer commercials which showed a guy screaming down a snow-packed mountain on skis, sliding to a perfect halt just outside the lodge, where a beautiful woman waited for him with a cold six-pack. The preacher said he'd like to see that guy drink that six-pack at the top of the mountain, then see if he could slalom down that slope.
I think I'd like to see the TSA personnel spend some time in full body-scan/search mode before they're allowed to inflict the same on babies, grannies, and my son's sweetheart.