Monday, August 17

Wanted: The Maker of Hoods

It happens to everyone. That moment of panic right before going through security at the airport.
Nothing to hide, everything to fear.

One big question on your mind. Will you make it through without. the. patdown.

Usually yes. You take a deep breath in, walk through the metal detector, and breathe out. Collect your belongings and be on your way.

Unfortunately this deep wish of yours does not always come true.

Like yesterday.

You hear, "Excuse me, ma'am? Can you turn around please?" (oh, craaaaaap)
"You are wearing a hood so I need to check you."

Really?? Reeeeealy?

"Curse the maker of hoods!!" you shout (in your head of course).

And then it begins. You hope for a simple pat. pat. pat.
But sometimes you aren't so lucky.

Like yesterday.

Sometimes there seems to be a need to touch every inch of the suspected area.

And so it begins. Dancing fingertips start at the top of your back.
stranger fingers
all over your back.
To the left.
To the right.
Too much to the left.
And yes, too much to the right as well.

Down, down, down your back the fingers dance.
"Stop!!" you scream (in your head of course).
"Curse the maker of hoods!!"

And just when things could get really uncomfortable, the fingers thankfully cease their dance.

"Thanks ma'am. You're done".
Gee. Thanks.

Then you sheepishly gather your belongings.
Run over to your traveling pal(s).
Silently ask forgiveness for cursing the maker of hoods.
And get a snack(s).
And vow to never, EVER wear a hood while traveling again.


  1. really?! Hoods? What is this world coming to?

  2. Oh my goodness! And they've always seemed like such innocent little fashion statements in the past, with their gentle floppiness - deceivers!