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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