I got to go through a full-body scan at the airport today.
I’d like to think the TSA guy was all, “Now THAT girl looks like the kind of girl who could either be a super hero or a super villain, depending on her ambitions. So cool. She needs a scan.”
But I kind of think he instead was thinking, “Now THAT girl looks like she is too confused and scared to opt out. So lame. She needs a scan.”
I’m in Atlanta for a couple days for a candy convention (see: job, sweet), but the last time I flew, Ricky Martin was in the closet, 3 ounces of liquid meant a shot of hard liquor, and metal detectors were as intrusive as it got.
I was a little nervous about the whole thing and seeing as how I wear all my emotions on my face, I’m sure the TSA guy could tell I was an easy target. So over to the full body scan I went.
I’m not sure if it would have more or less classy for me to opt for the full-body pat down, but I decided to go with the flow and let them take a naked picture of me instead.
It’s for America after all.
Would it be too gross if I wrote right now that I’m wondering if they could see that I was wearing a tampon? Oh. It would be? Too late.
Hey, somebody had to ask the question.
Anyway, luckily, I passed and got to put my shoes back on.
The flight itself was rather uneventful, except for the fact that it still amazes me that people can fly.
WHEEEEE!!! Look at the houses!!! They look like toys!!!!!! WHEEEE!!!! We’re above the clouds!!! THIS IS AMAZING!!!! WHEEEE!!!
Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes. The flight. Uneventful, etc, etc. I’m also staying in a super amazing hotel, with a circle window and view of the downtown that includes the CNN Center. (A little part of my news soul is intensely impressed by that).
It’s all very exciting.
But, ok. Can I be honest? (Aside from the tampon comment). I had to miss the high school youth group at my church tonight, and my heart is actually a little broken because of it.
One of the parent leaders called and left me a voicemail to tell me that it all went fine and that the youth did not burn down our church tent or anything. But, when I was listening to it, I teared up because I was so sad that I couldn’t be there.
I love every single one of those kids so much.
Ever. Single. One.
With all my heart and soul and spirit.
And so even though I’m in hotlanta enjoying the 60-degree days, and the view of the CNN Center, I secretly have spent more time than is healthy wishing I was in an old farm house with a bunch of teenagers tonight eating pizza.