I may be a goober traveler

I have many "goober-like" traits, many eccentricities, odd personality traits that endear me to, well at least a few people. I can be obsessive compulsive, inordinately subject to process and sequence, overly righteous about some principles, even acerbic. It's all part of what make me...me.

Today I want to write about another goober-like trait that I may be adding to my arsenal of oddities. On a couple of recent business trips I elected to wear on my person...a fanny pack. You know, that dorky looking apparatus slung around the waist of the middle-aged chubby hubby type you see walking around Disney World? The need for this apparatus is driven by the now exceedingly intrusive security steps one has to endure in order to enjoy the pleasure of air travel today.

The security check point in today's modern airport is, I think, little more than an opportunity for TSA agents drunk on power to laugh under their breath at we trained monkeys. Instead of "stand on one foot" and "eat the banana" it's "take off your shoes, take off your belt, assume the position." I approach the conveyor belt and my stomach starts to tense up. I gotta perform! Gotta be fast! Don't leave anything in my pockets. Is my one stick of aluminum wrapped gum gonna make the alarm go off? Gotta get everything unpacked and loaded onto three different trays in 10 seconds or less or the line behind me will start to get angry. And if I do make it through the portal of death, i.e., the metal detector, without sounding any alarms, then it's a race to get redressed and out of the way before backing up the people coming behind me.

Seriously, when I get to the part where I have to put everything into the little gray trays it's like a gun goes off and I have to:

1. Take off my shoes
2. Take off my watch
3. Take off my belt
4. Take out my wallet
5. Take out my coin holder (won't call it a coin purse)
6. Take out my keys
7. Take out my breath mints
8. Take off my jacket
9. Put them all into a bin
10. Take out my laptop
11. Put that in a separate bin (or be chided by TSA-man)
12. Slide both the bins onto the rolly doolies but be careful not to let them get away from me and be prematurely sucked into the secret portal of radiation
13. Put my backpack on the rolly doolies
14. Put my suitcase on the rolly doolies
15. Wait my turn and then slide my train of crap onto the conveyor belt and guide them into the secret portal of radiation one at a time being sure to properly space each item so as not to provoke a snide comment from the bitter government worker with poor interpersonal skills
16. Stand in front of the portal of death and wait for the frazzled government worker on the worthy side of the portal of death to wave me through
17. Wait! Where's my boarding pass?! Oh yeah, I've been clutching it in my teeth the last 60 seconds.
18. Now the moment of truth...proceed through the portal of death, holding my breath then hand the slightly moist boarding pass to incorrigible government worker. Then, I pass! I'm worthy! I'm a winner! Look at the slob next to me getting wanded, or the lady getting her compact checked for explosives...suckers!
19. But I can't gloat. Now I must undo everything I just did in steps 1 - 14...and quickly!

By now I'm sweating profusely, both at the stress of the endeavour and at the 300 calories I just burned undressing and redressing in the span of 120 seconds.

So you can see where a fanny pack would be helpful. I can gleefully consolidate steps 1 - 7 into 1 step! Now that's efficiency. Of course, I look like a goober, the chicks don't dig me and the first class passengers only sneer at me.

Gee, isn't flying fun?!