The Great Confiscation – Damn You TSA!

So, I think you know that I recently traveled to Appleton, Wisconsin to attend the Writer’s Police Academy. It was a blast!! Met some amazing people and learned some super cool stuff. Getting there was fine; 3 flights, 4 airports, no food, and 2 really quick trips to the restroom while running through airport concourses to my next flight. But all-in-all, not too bad. Coming home? Not so much.

The first leg of the journey, my jump hop to Chicago from Appleton, should have been super smooth. Hotel shuttle was on time. Airport was clean, easy to navigate, and relatively uncrowded. Because I had no way to print out my boarding passes, I decided to try those QR reader boarding pass things that are all the rage these days. I had my phone queued up, my shoes off, my computer in the bin, my totebag zipped shut and I was ready to get through the TSA line. Not so fast lady.

I always feel like a criminal when my bag gets pulled off the conveyor belt for “additional screening.” This was the same piece of luggage I’d brought with me 4 days earlier with nary a blink of an eye. The only addition was 2 books I bought at the convention and a big metal water bottle gifted from the Writer’s Police Academy. “Must be that big metal object (the water bottle) that messed up the x-ray machine,” I thought to myself, while I’m hopping around on one foot trying to put my sandals back on while keeping a close watch on my totebag and computer at the end of the conveyor belt.

Nope. Not the water bottle. Something else was giving the TSA guy a fit. “I need to open your suitcase,” the man said.

“Okay, sure, do whatever you have to do,” I replied. Meanwhile my heart’s racing. Did someone slip something illegal in my bag? I’ve just been to a police training academy with award winning mystery writers and my brain has come up with all kinds of scenarios about what criminal activity may have taken place with my luggage unbeknownst to me. Not to mention, my dirty underwear was in that bag. And a book about a serial killer that I purchased at the conference. That ought to be a fun find for them. How far were they going to dig?

I stood by waiting for the verdict. “I need to remove this bag,” the super-efficient TSA guy said. Again, I confirmed that he should just do whatever he needed to do to keep America safe from folks like me. The bag in question was a small, zippered, box-like packing cube that I keep miscellaneous things in. Things like a mini flashlight, my travel medicine kit, a collapsible umbrella, extra purse-sized Kleenex packets, sunscreen, yadda, yadda, yadda. You know, like a junk drawer for suitcases.

Well, inside that packing cube was a very small manicure kit. Inside the manicure kit was a nail clipper, tweezers, nail file, and . . . wait for it . . . a teeny, tiny pair of manicure scissors. Yup. Those babies were not allowed on the plane. Imagine the havoc I could wreak with those pointed tips. Now, that very same manicure kit had survived the trip from Mississippi to Wisconsin 4 days earlier, but no way in hell would I be allowed to carry that weapon of mass destruction back home.

While he’s explaining to me that “scissors are banned items,” I was trying to not snort with laughter. I mean . . . really? I’ll set the stage for you.

I’m planning on stabbing every single passenger and crew member with my miniscule manicure scissors so, instead of keeping them in my totebag that I would place under the seat in front of me for easy, inconspicuous access, I pack them in the kit where they belong, inside a zippered packing cube, inside a zipped up suitcase that I will be placing in the overhead bin. You know, so as to avoid suspicion. I wait until we hit 10,000 feet cruising altitude. I unlatch my seatbelt, climb over the person sitting next to me in the aisle (I had the coveted window seat), I open the overhead bin, I wrestle my suitcase out and set it . . . somewhere. I unpack the top layer of dirty underwear, pajamas, and serial killer books, to get to the zipped-up junk bag. I dig through the junk bag until I locate the manicure kit. Using every ounce of stealth I can muster (because no one notices me doing any of this right?), I open the manicure kit and palm the scissors into the pocket of my shorts. I repack everything and return the suitcase to the overhead bin and latch the door. Then I start with the passenger sitting next to me, because that person had the unfortunate luck of the seat draw when they got the aisle seat next to me, by stabbing him or her multiple times in the neck. Next, I systematically move up the aisle stabbing every person until they’re all out of commission before I take over command of the plane.

Seriously TSA? Do you see that happening? I’m ever so glad you confiscated those contraband manicure scissors because all hell would have broken loose on the 35-minute flight to Chicago. I was going to point out that I could do just about the same amount of damage with the ballpoint pen in my totebag, but I decided not to press my luck at the security station. Besides, if they’d taken my pen – you know, just in case – I wouldn’t have been able to do my crossword puzzles while in-flight.

Oh wait, there’s more. I’m such a rebel. They also felt the need to remove a nearly empty bottle of body spray. Yes, I admit, the bottle was larger than the acceptable size for a carry-on, being all of 6 ounces in size (gasp). Shame on me. However, there was probably less than 2 ounces left in the bottle. Nope. No way was that nearly empty 6-ounce bottle going back into my suitcase. It’s not “acceptable.” It too had to join the manicure scissors in the trash bin. I guess the 2 items combined were just too much for one small woman to carry on to a plane. Because, you know, when I’m done stabbing people, I’ll take that 2 ounces of liquid into the bathroom and whip up a bomb with some toilet paper and a bloodied pair of manicure scissors – all within a 35-minute flight no less. MacGyer has nothing on this girl.

So, thanks to Jesus for the really efficient guy at the TSA check point who single-handedly thwarted my non-existent plan to wrongfully use manicure scissors and 2 ounces of body spray for nefarious reasons, and kept the friendly skies safe . . . until I travel again.

Have you ever had something stupid confiscated from a TSA officer? On the contrary have you ever smuggled on contraband? Do you find it weird that in one airport nobody questioned my manicure scissors or oversized bottle of body spray but in a different airport they were not allowed? Would you have felt threatened if you knew someone had a pair of manicure scissors on the same flight as you?

I’ve got more exciting things planned for the year that only my newsletter followers will know about. I promise you’ll only get 6 newsletters for the entire year, so I won’t clutter up your inbox. Here’s the link if you want to sign up and be the first to know things: http://bit.ly/JansenSchmidtNewsletter

Word of the Day: Passepartout

Fun fact about me: I could never be a real criminal, I’d pass out from fear of getting caught. I nearly passed out knowing the TSA guy was going to see my book about a serial killer. I was formulating an explanation just in case.

Original post by Jansen Schmidt, June 2022. Images by Google and giphy.com