over a loust t-shirt.
Of course, the last time I flew I was dressed like 'Crash' Murphy, in a leather jacket, white scarf leather helmet and goggles. The TSA dude asked me if it had been a while since I flew last and I got whisked right through.
Why am I not surprised?
I have quite a number of t-shirts that are shooting match related, and hence could be considered 'gun shirts'. Big deal.
If anybody were to ask about any of my shirts, I'd look at them like they were stupid and tell them my wife snagged it at a garage sale for a quarter.
That generally defuses things.
The incident I get a boot out of most was in Philly when I had to go to the hospital to have a TB test read. I was going through a metal detector and handed the idiot there a key ring with a P-38 can opener, a dogtag and a 7.62 bullet...no case, just the actual bullet on it. A harmless piece of copper and lead.
"Whassat?" he asked, holding the P-38.
"A can opener," I replied and he looked very disappointed.
"Whassat?" he asked again, holding tthe bullet.
"Seven point six-two NATO," I replied.
"Dat a bullet?"
"Yes. Don't drop it." I answered, dryly.
You'd have thought I was carrying a lit stick of dynamite or something the way the imbicile carried on.
When I explained to the ignorammus that it was inert, he said to me, "Yeah, but it's the SYMBOL of firearm violence."
"So's the dogtag," I replied. "It means I trained to go to far and distant places, meet interesting and exotic people and kill them in wholesale numbers. You got a problem with the United States Army?"
Of course, there wasn't a whole lot he could answer with, but he still refused me service. I also pointed out that if I had, for example, s swastika tattooed on my forehead and an Aryan Nation symbol tattooed that they'd still have to give me medical treatment and that those symbols were a hell of a lot worse than a GI souvenier on a key ring.
Fortunately, common sense and dumb luck ruled that day.
It must have been shift change or something beecause a nurse started to come up behind me, asked wahat was going on and I told her. She rolled her eyes and asked me why I was there. I told her I simply wanted a TB test read.
She asked me if I had a form, which I did. I then rolled up my sleeve then and there and she examined me, filled out my form and sent me on my way. The looks she gave the door guard guy was a look of scorn.
I held out my key ring to the nurse. "Does this key ring hold any symbols of firearm violence?" I asked her.
"No," she replied, "It just looks like you were in the service at one time."
My anger changed to pity when I looked at the door guard. I realized that the man was so stupid that he didn't even have the brains to know he was stupid, which is sad. Most Downes kids I've met have been fully aware that they have Downes and are slow. This guy was one hell of a lot worse off than that.
I pitied him, yet I was still pretty mad at the hospital for hiring such a person.
Then I had another thought. The person that hired him was probably about as stupid as the guard was.
Now THAT'S scary.
I'd just bet TSA has a lot of these kind of idiots working for them.
That's a whole lot scarier.
my other blog is: