You’ve Been Randomly Selected…

Does anyone else always get stopped and searched at an airport?

I do, wherever I am and whatever I’m wearing.  I’ve taken just over 60 flights in my life, so by now I know what to do when I get to security.

Liquids separated, electronic items removed, belt, boots, jacket and hat off.

“Anything in your pockets?”
I pat them, and turn them inside out, just in case…
“Nope!”

I shuffle in my socks, to the queue for the scanner, avoiding eye contact with the customs security guards staring furiously back. I start going through a checklist in my head of all the illegal items that could’ve accidentally fallen into my pockets since I last checked them.

‘What if somehow a kilo of cocaine has mysteriously appeared in my carry on?’

The queue has cleared, and it’s now my turn. I nervously await the nod to proceed from the security guard on the other side. Approach the scanner, wincing, with the expectation of alarms and flashing lights. I try not to look surprised when there is no reaction from the machine, and continue to walk smugly past the guard. He puts up a hand, points at me, and begins beckoning me with his hand.

“Stand here sir, spread your feet apart and raise your arms”

I obey, and voluntarily receive a pat down from the guard.

‘What if I’ve got a gun strapped to my leg that I’d completely forgotten about?‘
‘Wait, I don’t even own a gun’

The guard tells me I’m ok, and signals me to go and collect my hand luggage. By now Ally’s already grabbed it and repacked it for me, and is patiently waiting in duty free.

Maybe I have a certain look that makes security uneasy, or maybe they think my glasses are some sort of disguise for a mastermind drug dealing, serial killer. Whatever it is, it means I get checked…every, bloody, time.