Oh, TSA...

...why do you do me so wrong?

Heading through security today at O'Hare in Chicago was especially annoying. First, some dude came over from another line and took the last bin from right in front of me. "Hey TSA, can we get some more bins, please?" It took a cool 5 whole minutes to get them to us. No, no...don't worry, TSA...it's not like we all have flights to catch or anything. Don't stress yourselves out.

Then, I was asked to take off my hooded sweatshirt (yup, I changed into sweats for my long journey home). Um, no. All I have on underneath is a kind of see-through little tank top. No, I will not take it off. So I was told I WOULD be patted down on the other side. Is that supposed to scare me? "Yeah, I know...I do this twice a week. Be my guest. Pat away. I might even like it."

I'm pretty sure I got the extra-intense pat down for those comments. (Not sure what got into me, but I was extra pissy going through security today)

And finally, I was asked if I had a compact anywhere in my bags. Duh. I'm a girl. Of course I have a compact somewhere in there. Two, in fact. "Ok, yeah...we're going to need to look through every nook and cranny of your stuff to find that compact." I told them exactly where they were. They found them right away. Annnnnnnnd still searched everything else. Thank goodness. Who knows what kind of mayhem I could have caused on my flight with that Cover Girl face powder...all my flight mates can rest easy now.

And do I really need to say it? Really, TSA?! Really?!?! You let a guy through security earlier this week with THREE BOX CUTTERS in his luggage, but I get stopped for almost 15 minutes because of a compact?! Am I on Candid Camera? I must be. This is way too ridiculous otherwise. Blaaaaaaaaaahhh.