Up in the air

Dear Person who saw me this morning with my knitting in the airport, and said that thing.

flighttime 2015-06-11

I’d like to take a moment to apologize to you for the way I looked at you when you said what you did, like you were stunned as a bat.  I know it was probably a moment of weaker reasoning on your part, but really, I’d like you to think through what the H-E-double hockey sticks came out of your mouth.  You looked right at my knitting, waved an incredulous hand at it,  and then you said “Did they let you through security with that?”

I know, I know. That’s the moment that I stared at you that way, and it really wasn’t super polite, but I was busy shoving down what I wanted to say to you, and it was really taking quite a lot of concentration to do it. Now that we’re not face to face though? Let’s unpack it.

Did they let me through security with that? Did they? Let’s think about that.  You’ve asked a polar question. One with only two answers. Yes, and no,  and since I am sitting there, with knitting needles, after security, we can presume, can we not, that the answer was affirmative? That yes, the ladies and gentlemen with the full body scanner, the X-rays, the trace detectors, the bomb dogs… the same people who made me take off my shoes and little cardigan, and then had me lift up my feet so they could check the soles of my feet and patted over the bodies of about a million people so far today, let’s assume that those people did not overlook my knitting. They made the guy in front of me take of his fitbit and then take another run through the body scanner, and they ripped up the bag of another lady in line because she had a tiny bottle of hand lotion in it that she’d forgotten, so yeah. Let’s assume these super vigilant people who are responsible for the safety of a whole lot of people didn’t just take a look at my knitting on the X-ray and think “What the hell. I just don’t care.” Let’s actually assume that they have a policy, which they do, and that they are careful, which they are, and that they allow knitting, which CLEARLY, since I re-iterate, I am past security and still have my knitting (which cannot be said of the hand lotion)  they do, and it’s YES. I was allowed through security with THAT.

Furthermore, let’s discuss the other choice, shall we? The other possibility – the one that you seem to be leaning towards, with your arching eyebrow and judgmental tone, is that I have somehow run a very fancy scam on Airline security, and NO – I was not allowed past security with my knitting, but I have somehow managed to do it anyway.

What would that look like? Instead of coming through security just like everyone else in this airport, I had to come up with an extremely complicated plan. This morning, before I left home, I positioned the needles on my person and then when I passed through the x-ray machine I told them it was a steel plate I have from the war. When they looked suspicious and snapped their latex gloves, I ran. I bolted past the desk, deliberately abandoning my things in the search machine (having strategically removed all identifying materials ahead of time), and streaked through the airport, hiding briefly in a Starbucks to elude them. When I saw them pass, I used the door codes I’d stolen from a pilot I shagged last week to open the gates, and slunk through the back corridors of the airport, stepping in every puddle I could find to avoid leaving a scent for the tracking dogs. I backtracked, made only left turns, and briefly rappelled until I made it all the way back to my original gate where I used a counterfeit German passport to sneak through the locked door. Now, I’m sitting here, knitting, and celebrating the fact that, even though I have certainly secured myself at least fifteen years in federal prison, if not a violent shooting death any freakin’ minute – I have at long last met my goal of sneaking needles past security so that I can at long last knit in an airport and NO. THEY DID NOT LET ME PAST SECURITY WITH THAT.

Seriously. Now that you’re thinking, do you see my point?

Cheers, and sorry for the staring