Don't Leave Home Without It

This past weekend Ryan and I flew to Seattle to do some househunting. The day before we flew out, I removed my driver's license from my wallet and put it in the back pocket of my jeans. We were heading to swimming lessons--and I didn't want to leave my entire wallet in my bag where anyone could take it while we were in the pool. But, I also didn't want to risk being pulled over on the way to/from swimming lessons and not having my wallet. So, there it was, tucked safely in my back pocket. When I got home, I pulled it out and thought I should, right at that moment, put it back into my wallet. But the girls were hungry and tired and smelled strongly of chlorine. Off to the bath, then dinner, then bed...and then I got down to the business of packing.

It wasn't until we were en route to the airport that I realized my license was STILL in my jeans. Panic-stricken, I turned to Ryan and informed him of my major faux pas. I had managed to organize an entire binder for our house hunting appointments, yet somehow forgot the license. Ryan, being the security-minded man that he is, (and feeling that airline security is more an issue of perceived security, instead of true security), assured me that he had read in several places about people who were TRYING to get kicked out of security, and still managed to get through. Since we didn't have time to go back home and retrieve it, I tried to calm down. It was just going to HAVE to be OK.

The Salt Lake airport wasn't too bad. They asked for my ID at the baggage counter--and upon informing them I didn't have one, they marked my boarding pass for extra security. After we left the counter, Ryan pointed out that they hadn't even asked for his ID. When we got to the security checkpoint, they took me aside and asked to see any ID I happened to have. I provided a few credit cards and an old BYU ID that only confused the issue because it was in my maiden name. When I told the guy it was all I had with me, he returned the cards and walked me over to what I called the puffer chamber. It's like one of those metal detectors from the airport, but has plexiglass doors that shut in front of and behind you. Then, it rapidly blows puffs of air at you--and you wait, trapped inside, while it analyzes the air in the chamber. It felt like the analyzation took a long time and, although I could see out, I started to get a little claustrophobic. Once that was over, I walked through a metal detector, and then my shoes and my entire carry-on bag were swabbed for residue of explosives. I finished my process about the same time Ryan finished tying his shoes. It was only slightly more of a hassle than the usual safety screenings I've had to endure at airports.

Seattle's process was a completely different story. First of all, we ended up in the maze of a line right behind the entire Monterrey Men's and Women's soccer teams. Someone was carrying a HUGE trophy, so I presume they won. But, that thing was heavy and looked like it could be dangerous to a flight attendant or other passengers--I'm not sure how they ended up getting THAT through security. When we finally got to the front of the line, I was once again pulled aside. This time, I remembered that I had my Seven Peaks season pass in my wallet and provided that in lieu of the old BYU ID. Notwithstanding, I still had to provide proof of address. The guy, (who was actually really nice), asked me several times if I had anything with my name and address on it--a bill or anything. Since I don't normally travel with my bills, I had nothing. They had me fill out a sheet with my name, address, birthdate, and phone number--and then the guy got on the phone to verify the information with someone on the other end. After asking me for my former address, my county of residence, and the major US freeway closest to my home, my boarding pass was stamped and I was given the go-ahead. I joined the other less-weary-than-I-at-this-point travelers in line for the standard metal detector and x-rays of shoes and bags. On the other side of the metal detector, I was sent to another set of TSA workers for a pat down as well as another swabbing of my shoes, bag, and contents. I chose to sit next to the table while they were swabbing my carry-on. After the bomb-sniffing machine sounded an alert, a supervisor was called over to explain to me that my bag had tested positive for nitroglycerin. I started laughing at this point and wondered how in the world THAT had happened. Apparently, if you use soap or lotion with glycerin in it, you can have a residue on your skin that will leave a residue on your items. And, as the TSA supervisor explained to me, glycerin is a key component of nitroglycerin. (Wow--really?) But, the guy said I'd be fine as long as the alarm didn't go off again. It didn't. (Thank goodness I hadn't been using fertilizer that morning!) And, I was finally through and on my way.

I think next time, I'll make sure I have my ID and will head through the "Experienced Traveller" lane at the TSA checkpoint. After all, I've now experienced the entire in-depth screening process!