With horrible predictability, just days after I complained about security theatre, there was another act and even a little local spin on it.
Which was just marvellous. Given that this weekend was one I spent in Norn Iron(1), it meant that TLW & I got caught up in the inevitable theatrical response to a threat. To whit: extra intensive screening. Not of the sort that results in shoes being taken off, but of the sort that required every third bag to be rechecked through the X-ray machine and then hand searched and then X-rayed again.
Guess whose bag counted?
So, TLW got through and I did not. I got to wait while the security staff did their thing (walked slowly, searched slowly, kicked bags about) until it was my turn. After the second X-ray the very friendly, highly polite(2) security lady strolled over to me and said, in no uncertain terms, that there was an aerosol in my bag.
No there isn’t. There’s an empty glass container that was a wedding present, but there’s no aerosol.
Of course, she couldn’t accept this (which I understand, obviously) and so the actual search began. Going back to the time when I did door a lot, I started opening the bag and went to remove things but she insisted on doing things herself(3), including lifting out a small package wrapped in a napkin.
That’s a bun, says I.
Don’t say that, you say that you could get arrested, says she.
What? It’s a bun, a cake.
Oh, OK then.
At this point, I’m seeing the funny side (because if I didn’t I’d be saying sarcastic things or actually trying to get her to arrest me and see what happens) but TLW was unamused…
The rest of the search went a bit quicker after that, and as it happens the only things we’ve learned are:
- Security theatre is alive and well;
- Aldergrove security is more of a joke than most;
- A bun is apparently threatening enough to warrant arrest; and
- The carrying of wedding presents is a very suspicious activity.
Again: this nonsense is getting to piss me off. So much so that we’re seriously looking at the possibility of driving/ferrying for the next trip to the auld sod.
—
(1) – speaking of which, hello to Mr ‘Wulf, who I bumped into in an airport.
(2) – Hint: may contain traces of lie, but any serious attempt to charactarise the lady in question would risk invoking Godwin’s Law.
(3) – Hah, fool. You done picked up my dirty boxer shorts.