I don't know if I should be bemused, peeved or concerned that Transport Canada thinks that I may be a security threat to the world. Perhaps they chanced upon my recent posting in which I unwittingly & successfully smuggled a weapon aboard a Royal Air Maroc flight - but I really don't think that I conform to any sort of terrorist profile.
So yes, in spite of the fact that I want our friendly skies to remain friendly, I do take exception to being hauled aside as I passed through the metal detector at Pierre Elliot Trudeau International Airport day before last. And yes, I know that I set the freaking thing off, but I always set the freaking thing off. In fact, I would hazard a guess and say that I have never not set the machine a-beeping. As did the forty or so people that I watched passing through the gate moments before me. Let me be precise: I don't take exception to the fact that I was asked to step aside; in fact, I had already assumed the crucifixion pose for Mr. Guard and his Magic Wand before he said anything, but when my belt buckle & the rivets on my jeans kept causing said Magic Wand to beep (I think they're made of something called 'metal') as well as the stays on my bra - things, in my mind, got a bit silly. He then instructed me to un-do my belt - which I normally don't like to do in front of a man unless dinner & a movie have preceded the unveiling - but he seemed satisfied (they all do) that nothing there was amiss.
Mr. Guard promptly called over Janice, a female security officer to have a nice little semi-invasive poke & prod on my person. She peered under my top and slipped her hands inside my jeans alongside my externally rivetted hips and confirmed that I was indeed not wearing explosive jeans or a combustible bra. My bullet bra was clearly unloaded. Not only did she confirm this but she did so while everyone watched on. Had this happened to my mother, I'm quite certain that she would have been mortified.
Now I know that bras are a little contentious these days: gel-filled bras rank #4 on the Canadian Air Transport Security Authority's no-no webpage (just after bottles of insulin greater than 148 ml) but at the risk of sounding a tad boastful, I have no need to pad my girls. I mean, digital cameras are allowed but gel-filled bras are verboten? O brave new world!
Mr. Guard courteously thanked Janice for invading my privacy for all to (uncomfortably) gawk at, and said nothing to me. A "thank you for your cooperation and patience" would have gone a long way (although admittedly not long enough) to unruffle my feathers. This whole episode made me rather happy (in a smug sort of way) that I had declined to voluntarily forfeit my new tube of lipgloss (like the 4 dozen or so women before me had) as we were winding our way through the security lines ... and yet, the plane did not explode. Go figure. Guess I'm not a terrorist after all.
p.s. And I'm not so naive to think that this little posting won't plant me firmly on a no-fly/watchlist. My jet-setting days (such as they were) are history.