The year was 2004. I was on my way to the University of Maine in Orono to visit a girl I had dated over the summer, and was in her final semester there. I booked my tickets using Priceline, which ended up saving me money and taking me through Logan airport to get to Bangor, ME.

Oddly enough, the flights booked by Priceline were (a) two separate airliners and (b) just 45 minutes apart. I got off my first flight, had to leave the terminal with my carry-on bag, re-check it, and rush to the other terminal for the second leg of the flight. 

Logan is a nightmare of an airport, but security was fortunately decent on this mid-morning. Unfortunately, I had the XXXX on my ticket to indicate that I would be “randomly selected” for additional screening. (HINT: A then-22-year-old kid with a bald, shaved head assures your place at the side of the screening booth.)

I go through the metal detector and, knowing what’s about to happen, the screener greets me. She’s about 5’5”, probably of Latin decent, and definitely not from Mass. All good things. We go over to a bench just behind past the detectors and baggage screening equipment. She describes the process which I had already been through a few times in that last twelve months. (Remember? Bald? Young? This happened four straight flights after 9/11.)

I get up, give her the crucifix stance. She pats me down - doesn’t touch my junk. Gives me the metal wand treatment. All the while, she’s asking where I’m flying in a friendly tone, but surely with interrogative intentions.

At the end of the wanding, she says something that caught me off guard.

“Ok, now take your pants off.”

Like Ron Jeremy on a porn set, I start to take my belt off. I am ready to drop trou for this lady while hundreds of people are pouring through the terminal.

She stops me as the buckle comes loose.

“No! No! I’m just kidding. I’m just messing with you!”

Still not convinced, I said, “If it’ll keep America safe, I’ll drop ‘em.” (Perhaps that remark reveals way more about me than taking off my jeans.)

She insists. “No! It’s ok. You’re good!”

We laughed about it a little bit. I grabbed my bags and went along my way. I made the flight with my boys unscathed.