Security Hero

Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern. It seems that whenever I travel to or from Victoria by air, security randomly selects me. Why? I have no idea. I just have that look, maybe?

I travel quite a bit, so I pride myself on sailing through security checkpoints. Hat off, belt off, nothing in my pockets, laptop out of the bag, different bins for different things – unless you are leaving Calgary for Victoria, and then you just put it all in one bin, coat first, which, apparently, is important to security-conscious people.

Today, coming to Victoria, I forgot to take off my belt. Rookie move – I’ve been making a lot of these lately – but the security people were fun, so they scanned me in the SCAN-O-TRON. My arms weren’t quite like the pictogram, so they did it again. They giggled and made me try different moves. Eventually, I passed whatever weird test they were performing, and was handed back my belt. I am now my own nightlight.

My bin got tagged for “random selection.” I’m used to this, so I sat on the stainless steel Luggage Reassembly Table™ and waited for them to get to my stuff. This is why I show up two hours early, as they recommend.

Eventually, one of the security people grabbed my bin and signalled me to walk up to their station. “Is this yours?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

She looked at me. Then at her screen. To the bin. Back to me. Weighing and measuring my very existence. I smiled a tired smile. It had been a long week.

“Good to go,” she said, officially.

Huzzah. Time for breakfast. Followed by another long day.

On the way back from Victoria, that very same day, I’m in line for Security. The line isn’t long, but it also isn’t moving fast. I put everything in the appropriate bins. I am the Security Hero. I have time. I have done this correctly. I rock. I turn up my nose at the people ahead of me who didn’t sort their bins properly, who are still wearing a hat, who have an accidental water bottle tucked in their backpack. I am Security Hero. I’m feeling very pleased with myself because I am not only prepared and will make everyone’s lives easier, but I’m also patient with the People Who Don’t Travel.

Finally, it is my turn to walk through the machine that goes “SQUEEEEEAAAAHHHH!” As I approach the machine, I nod at the security on the other side, smile, give a thumbs up, and saunter the saunter of the just.

“SQQUUUEEEEAAAAAAHHHHHH!!”

I look behind me to see who tried cheating the system. No one. I look ahead. Security is snapping on black nitrile gloves and smiling.

“That’s the metal tone!” They all look at each other. One of them whispers something into their wrist. Another touches their ear and says, “Copy.” The big one, his hands held up in a disarming yet strangely alarming way, says, “DO YOU HAVE ANY METAL IN YOUR POCKETS?”

I give my best disarming smile, hands up, slowly spinning to show them I have nothing to hide. I am Security Hero. I smile again. I slowly and dramatically pat down my own pockets to show them that I have nothing to … fuck.

“Sir,” the large one says. “Please remove your phone from your pocket.”

Really? Fuck.

I step back through security, put the phone in my bin, smile the smile of the daft, and walk back through. Not a beep. My bins pass straight through without the slightest hiccup.

I am Security Hero.