MX TSA

I have no idea why, but Jammahs never fares well with foreign security. Maybe I’m on a Road Warrior watch list? Or, maybe they are suspicious of my multiple bags and carry-ons? I really should pack lighter. Or, maybe it’s because of my appearance? I’m a jetlagged, baggy-eyed, hair in pony, frizzies in headband, sneakers, sweats, long sleeve tshirt, kind of traveler on international flights. I look like a Travel Rookie. If I was a TSA checker, I’d mess with every single Travel Rookie. Like, take off your belt…yes, loose change counts as a metal….that sweater, yup, take it off. And, then I’d mess with every Road Warrior who thinks that they know how to beat the system…I believe those tweezers have a sharp point…your B&B Prep spray is above the 3.11 limit….sweet, sweet revenge.

Last week, after I was in LA, I popped over to Cabo (or Cabo, Cabo, Cabo, as the girls on Laguna Beach say it) to take care of some official “on the beach” business. And, by official business, I mean the business of sitting under an umbrella, with SPF45 and a margarita on the rocks. I do my best work in the shade with a slight alcohol induced buzz. And, by work, I mean reading celeb gossip magazines, thinking about how Scarlett Johnanson’s hair looks bad on the cover of Elle, daydreaming, napping, watching waves crash and occasionally checking my BBerry for a weather report from my Mom (sunny and 96 degrees…slight chance of rain in NY when I fly back to LGA). I thought about how I should be working on a Visio or PPT deck in a team room in Boise, but instead I was just working my way through a bottle of sunblock and a bag of sour worms from the hotel gift shop.

On the return flight, at around 7am, at the Aeropuerto Internacional de Los Cabos, that I went from only being stressed about finding a good magnet to being stressed that I was going to wind up in Mexican TSA jail. Not sure what the deal was, but I was stopped at EVERY MX TSA checkpoint. My three bags (one checked, two carry-ons) were searched before I got my boarding pass, at the security gate and before getting on the plane. And, I was wanded. And, I was patted down. There was an exchange of words--round-o, not sharp-o--over my scissors, but I was able to keep them. (Jammahs malo at Espanol)

I was then stopped at customs. I was pulled aside and my bag was searched. AGAIN. And, then, I was stopped, carry-ons searched, puffer machine (hate that thing) at the security checkpoint before entering DFW. AGAIN. So, that’s a total of 5 bag searches, 1 wand, 1 pat down,1 puffer machine. What was the deal? And, why was everyone asking me if I was carrying fresh fruit back to USA? If I had the means, I would have been smuggling in a toasted egg & cheese on a bagel, a side of fries, with extra grease, and a jug of Vitamin Water in Revive. But, fresh fruit? Nope, not really on my menu for the day.

I went to the Ladies and soon solved the TSA mystery. Behind the foggy Ladies’ mirror, I saw it. Jammahs was a MESS. The late night of tequila shots did a number on me—red eyes that could barely open, smoky hair, no make up, sunburn. I looked shady. Yeah, I looked like one shady, shady, fresh fruit/liquids/drug smuggler. TSA, good work. I would have stopped me, too.