Being a coffee baron and traveling with a suitcase loaded with cash, I thought it might be necessary to cut my way free from the bondage of my kidnappers.
I had three knives in my airplane carry-on bags.
I went through Nashvegas TSA security about 4:30 a.m. I was the only traveler in the area. Really, only me. There were 22 TSA agents. I know – I counted.
Lucky for me they just sniffed my body as my security scan. I passed. My carry-ons passed. With three knives.
Two were the multi-blade variety. Like this
One was those teeny-tiny throwaway/giveaway knives that Le Club Du Golfe awarded to the golfers who wanted to slit their wrists after a tournament. I’m pretty sure that would be the only use for such a knife.
I didn’t intend to travel with weapons. Last time I unpacked my checked bag luggage, I just grabbed all my traveling essentials: knives, rain ponchos, eyeglass cleaner, earphones, flask, mask, Erasmus Rask letter, and various other Sky Mall gadgets and threw them in one of the carry-on bags.
I had to connect in Miami for my international jaunt, so that meant another TSA security screening.
My knives traveled with me at my fingertips.
They were eventually confiscated. Not by the TSA geniuses in the U.S. who probably make $40,000 a year with a handsome medical plan and lovely pension.
No-ho, my friends. The man at Santa Maria Aeropuerto, who may may $4,000 a year, did his job at a 60% efficiency rating. Which compared to the TSA score of 0% is at least a passing grade.
He saw the first knife on the first scan, did a search to root it out. It was the wrist-slitter. It was in the bag with
- CPAP, hose, mask, electrical cord,
- portable video player with electrical cord,
- 3 packages of Chicky brand cookies (Costa Rica’s cheapest)
- four Kolbi brand snack bars,
- four DVD cases,
- boarding pass stubs,
- receipts for tolls, parking, overpriced airport food,
- assorted small denomination coins of the realm,
- packages of gum
Get the picture? I carry the exact same equivalent contents of a woman’s purse when I travel. Even the tampons and Midol.
The Real Security Guard was not deterred by my clutter. He rummaged and poked and squeezed every inch of that bag because he knew there was a bigger knife.
He was right. Kinda. Actually there were two bigger knives. Luckily he found the cheaper of the two and quit looking leaving me with my “good” knife.
By the way, one of the videos I watched was Good Night and Good Luck.
Good Knife and Good Luck.