Choose Julia Niemeier
Bleeeep! The metal detector went off with an earsplitting shriek as I stood under it, hands raised and feet spread, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. This was my first time flying, and I’ d spent that last hour of waiting in the security line imagining highly unpleasant but improbable scenarios involving the metal detector going off over a filling in my tooth or the zipper on my pants and armed guys in black vests swarming out of hidden doorways to riddle me with bullets before I had the chance to explain myself. And now, the nightmare was about to come true.
“ Step off the mat and wait over here, miss,” said the bored TSA agent standing by the detector’ s display monitor. I did, feeling inordinately guilty, even though I’ d nervously followed every guideline to the letter. What was going on? Uncertainty pooled in my stomach like cold water.
A female agent came over to where I stood fidgeting under the stares of everyone else in line.“ I just have to pat you down, okay, hon?” She said. I nodded.“ Where’ re you headed?” She asked.
“ Home from school,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant and grown up.“ Back to Omaha.”
The agent began to pat down my hair and shoulders.“ And where’ s school?”
“ U Penn,” I said, lifting my eyes to the ceiling fifty feet above as she ran her hands over my boobs.
“ Oh, smart kid,” she said. I nodded tensely.“ First time flying?” Another tense nod.“ Well,” the agent said,“ we don’ t want you to miss your flight, so—”
“ What?!” I squeaked, failing to hide my panic as she cut herself off.
“ What’ s in your pocket, honey.” The agent’ s voice made it a statement rather than a question.
“ What? Nothing,” I stammered.“ I took out my keys and change, and …” She slowly slid two fingers into the hip pocket of my jeans. When she withdrew her hand, she was holding a key, gold, no serial numbers or identifying marks.
She let out a breath.“ Honey, you have to let stuff like this go through the scanner,” she admonished gently.
“ That’ s – that’ s not mine,” I said, confused and feeling more than a little stupid.
“ Oh, you must have just forgotten about it. Stress of flying, and all that. It’ s okay, it happens. She waved the key under a scanner.“ No worries, there you go. Have a nice flight!” And she handed me the key that wasn’ t mine and ushered me back towards the security area, where my backpack and shoes waited at the end of a shiny silver table. The key was cold in my hand.
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