Sunday, November 21, 2010

Who knew the survival of the free world could come down to one strapless bra?

I had put a lot of thinking into my choice of wardrobe upon my return from Mexico, and my first flight under the new TSA guidelines. I thought I was so clever to choose a top that could start out as a halter top and "convert" to long sleeves. I could leave 80 degree whether and be comfortable and arrive in 40 degree whether and be warm. I'm brilliant.

Except that any strapless bra that has any hope of staying up will have metal stays in the sides.

And that is where and why my intimate relationship with the TSA agent began.

First I was lucky enough to be selected for the new see-through x-ray machine on my maiden new regulation voyage. "They" tell you that it really does not see you naked. A renowned anesthesiologist told me that the machine does not show male and female body parts. So if it can't see you naked how does it know to blur certain body parts?

Back to my strapless bra. I put myself at ease by telling myself that the amount of sun I just got in Mexico was more damaging than the amount of radiation in this new machine.

We don't really know. No one knows. The only fact the medical profession can truly agree on is that the only amount of radiation that is safe is zero.

Then came the pat down. As you probably know, agents can now use the front of their hands rather than the old style back-handed pat down. Even Hilary Clinton says she would "just say NO" to a pat down.

I could choose to undergo the pat down in public or in a private room. Right. like I am going into a private room with Brunhilda the prison guard from Stalag 17.

I will do a lot of things on principle, and I will not do a lot of things on principle. Missing my connection on principle was not a choice I was making on that day.

At the end of this free peep show, I asked Brunhilda if I was just lucky to be selected at random.         No she declared, the strapless bra was the culprit.

Who knew that the future safety of the free world resides in women wearing bras with no metal.

I suppose I would have been better off flapping in the wind with no bra at all.