Last fall, I was struggling with finding some tangible motivation for hitting the gym hard. Then the fiasco with the TSA and the body scan machines kicked in. So, on the chance that I would be selected for a random full body pat down, I hit the gym hard. Today it happened.
And it wasn’t that random.
Expecting the cab out to JFK to take a long time because of morning traffic, I left earlier than I normally would. And perhaps that is the reason that we hit no traffic. Arriving at JFK a full hour ahead of my flight’s boarding time, I was feeling adventurous and a tad bit snarky. When I was pulled out of line for the full body scanner (which I have done a million times, no problem) I decided it was time to see the fruits of my gym regimen.
“I’m opting out.”
“Really? You want a full body pat down?” The TSA women looked at me and asked.
“Yes I do.”
“Male assist!” she barked out with a slight snarl.
Then, all the sweat in the gym paid off. Two male TSA agents, that I have no doubt played defensive end earlier in their life, looked at each other, back at me, and then back at each other. Saying nothing to each other, they each put out their right fist in front of them and locked eyes.
“One, two, three...” and they began a best 2 out of 3 match of rock-paper-scissor.
My morning, no, my week, was made in that exact moment. Two huge TSA agents farkling over who had to pat me down. The winner, raised his hands in the air, did a little dance, and went back to sitting around. The loser, looking like someone just told him that he had to go on a diet, wandered over and with sad eyes and gave me the full treatment, blue gloves and all.
Moral of the story for the general public: the TSA hates patting you down as much as you hate being patted down.
Moral of the story for the TSA: if you keep entertaining me like this each time, I’m going to keep opting out