And so the decade comes to a close much in the same way that it began: Terrorists win. That is, if you consider the additional levels of scrutiny and security that all airline passengers must now experience as they attempt to get from place to place. It was just ten years ago that you could test the level of intimacy of your relationship by where you were picked up at the airport. If your sweetheart met you at the gate with flowers, you were in. If they waited at the curb, they cared, but not as much. And if they waited for you to catch a cab and greeted you on their own front porch, well you might be just a long-distance booty-call.
Only ticketed passengers at the gates now. No nail clippers or sewing scissors will be allowed on board. Personal hygiene and crocheting at thirty thousand feet took a solid hit. Since you don't need a fork and knife to cut your complimentary peanuts, that little issue was taken care of by the economy. Richard Reid made loafers the footwear of choice for air travelers. I am grateful that my scalp required little if any product, since the thimble-sized vials that are now allowed in carry-on bags wouldn't last long on some folks. And whatever you do, don't congregate near the front lavatory, no matter how bad you might think you have to go.
That was then. This is now. Now you may be subject to additional search if your underwear is considered suspect. I don't know about you, but I've spent a few uncomfortable hours on flights sitting next to strangers who may have been smuggling explosives or something much more dangerous in their undergarments, and a chance to freshen up or discard those offending boxers or briefs would be a welcome advance to everyone's in-flight experience. Then again, if the TSA requires everyone to "fly commando," I might be staying home more often, though it would make picking somebody up at the airport that much more interesting again.
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