It finally happened. I was standing in the security line at the airport, and I was “randomly” pulled out to go through the body scan machine. I have worried about this machine, and how all of the metal in my back might look. I was not anxious to explain my disability to a perfect stranger, even if it was a government agent.
“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to stand over here for additional screening.” I knew it was just a matter of time, but my heart sank nonetheless. The machine whipped around me scanning the inside of my body. When it was finished, the TSA agent began talking into the walkie-talkie mouthpiece attached to his shoulder.
The TSA agent moved me even farther from the crowd and made me stand still. Certainly they saw the three pounds of metal in my back. I had visions of strip searches, and humiliation. I thought about pleading my disability in hopes of being left alone, but the words did not come out in time.
As I began to explain my circumstances, the TSA agent stopped me. “Sir, do you have anything in your left front pocket?” What? Left front pocket? I thought about it and said, no all of my metal and coins are in the basket that went through the machine. But wait, there was something in my pocket. Asking permission to move, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of candy, a root beer barrel.
Here I was ready to cry foul, to complain about be harassed because of my disability, when all I was accused of was having a piece of candy in my pocket. Just because my disability is always on my mind, doesn’t mean that my disability is on everyone else’s mind. Sometimes people are just doing their job. Don’t be so quick to defend yourself. You may just have a root beer barrel in your pocket.
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