I stepped through the scanner at the airport and did the little pose. I stepped out and the young, skinny black kid halted me with his hand and checked the scan.
"Okay," he said. "Do you have anything in your right pocket?"
"No," I said.
I was wearing sweatpants and every once in awhile I get a pat down because the pants bunch up, I guess.
"Would you like to do this here or go to a back room?" He asked.
"Do what?" I asked.
He was snapping on a pair of gloves.
"I need to do a pat down. Do you have anything in your pockets? Last chance."
"I don't," I said. "Do what you have to do."
I watched my bag make it through the scan, along with my shoes and coat.
"Do you have any painful spots?" He asked.
I'm not sure what I was expecting but he went up and down each leg and then patted my ass. Just before I said "What the $&&$?"
He went up the inside of my left thigh and I just looked at him as he actually violated the space where things hang.
He then moved to the right inner thigh.
"All good," he said.
I looked at him and he shrugged.
"Doing my job," he said.
And I have to tell you, it pissed me off a bit. It was invasive, embarrassing and absolutely unnecessary.
"I'm curious about that scanner I stepped through," I said. "What good is that if you have to massage me after I step through it."
"You're free to go," he said in his big-boy authoritative voice.
I put my shoes on...
The little dope was staring me down.
I was wondering if he would up the search if I asked him another question.
"Have a safe flight," he said.
"Thank you for keeping us safe," I said.
I grabbed my bag and headed towards the gate.
He could've at least bought me a drink.
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