Bulletproof Biker

I flew into Minneapolis yesterday for meetings today with a large Corporation. Thursday after having lunch I ended up doing some shopping in a neighborhood called ‘Uptown’ which has some really fun and trendy stores. One of these stores called Ragstock carries both new and used clothing. I found a number of wonderful bargains including a leather motorcycle jacket for the unbelievably low price of $20. Here’s the hitch: I’m going through security today after my meeting and I hear the guy with the TV screen for the x-ray machine say something about ‘bullets’. I say, “That’s my bag; I’ll bet you’re talking about my ‘thumb’” which I further explain is a USB device for storing data. “No, that’s not it. We’re going to have to search the bag.” This is of course fine by me. It turns out the bag in question was not the one holding my computer but the one holding my purchases and clothing. The lady agent starts going through after explaining that I can not touch it until they are finished. They swab it; no problem. She digs in and finds a metal encased game that I’ve purchased as a present for my niece. This is shrink- wrapped in plastic which she’s ready to open. When I point out that it’s professionally encased and a gift she agrees to run it through the X-ray again along with a night light that I’d also purchased. The male agent helping her suggests that they run my bag through again too to make sure that what they had seen is confirmed as game pieces. They run it though and the big fella reading the screen asks her to change places with him and they also call a supervisor. I now go with him to another desk where he removes everything in the bag. He takes my sneakers and turns them upside down and hits them before searching with his hand. I can’t imagine what they are looking for. I asked him if the game had been the issue and he replied no, it was not. I told him I’d purchased that for my niece. He then with a grin asked if the handcuffs were for her as well. I further explained that they were a gag gift for her mother as its awfully difficult keeping a teenager in line. He winks which leads me to wonder if this bear is a member of the club. He pulls out the leather jacket. I breath a sigh of relief and tell him, “Oh, that must be what you saw; all the hardware on the jacket. I bought that at a 2^nd hand shop uptown for $20 bucks. Nope, that’s not what he saw. He does start feeling around in the jacket and then pulls a pocket inside out where he finds a minuscule hole. Now I’m starting to get nervous. It’s not really my jacket; I’d just bought it 2^nd hand and beyond trying it on quickly didn’t check it out. He’ll just find some loose change…..nope again, he digs and digs and pulls out a 22 caliber bullet! Dear God in Heaven I’m now guilty of committing a felony. He’s calm as cucumber and I’m scared to death. I don’t want to leave the airport in cuffs belonging to a cop to meet my date for the evening; bubba. I keep my cool as he’s being lovely but there are procedures to follow as a ‘crime’ has been committed and others are called. A lady agent who has joined us with a clip board and paperwork to fill out the reports joins us and asks for my ticket and identification. She asks if this is my current address and what is my phone? Being a man of this century I ask her which number she wants, she settles for home. SS # is requested next. I question the safety of giving this out to be put on paperwork that is going to be passed around; she assures me this is ok. Meanwhile my bear of an agent has dug out a total of 8 bullets and is still going. He’d had to go and get a pair of scissors to cut the lining but I requested that he cut the pocket along a seam instead as it would be easier to repair if that was possible. Now he and the supervisor almost laugh and totally realize that I’m not the kind to have bullets on my person and that my innocence is real but still the top supervisor is called to question me and also a cop who now uses his collar walkie talkie to call in a back ground check on me. “Are there any outstanding warrants for your arrest?” He politely asks me. “Good lord no.” I reply. “For your sake I hope not.” He ominously responds. Ok, now I really, really have to pee…..Still everyone is being very nice but this is not good. The big supervisor who was a good looking wholesome young man of about 15 shows up and we go through the information all over again. He’s now filling out his own paperwork for another report and also wants my cell phone # too. He explains that I’ll be getting a letter from the TSA? FED’s? I’m not even sure who I was talking to by this point. I request that he adds to his report the innocent circumstances and perhaps even my stupidity and then I politely ask him if now I was going to be hassled every time I went through security and he assured me not. But, he added should I be caught again with a weapon like a knife, gun, or ammunition going through security that at the least I would receive a fine. Fine? Fine. I’m absolutely fine with that because I’m never buying anything old again. Ever. While this is going on my bear digs out a cut portion of a stripped drinking straw that is about 3” long. (Great not only was the former owner of the jacket a hired killer but he was also a druggie.) There is also a large nut (like what goes with a large bolt) that has a piece of tin foil balled up in the center. He ignores this completely and tells me that he thinks he got them all but do I want him to run the jacket through x-ray again just to make sure? Yes please sir. He returns telling the now considerable crowd of officials around me but talking to and looking at me that there’s one more little devil hiding in there but he’ll find it. Now one of the lady agents picks up the nut and says, “There’s something in here wrapped in foil.” My bear/angel takes it from here and says, “Let’s see about that.” Now I really have to piss. I’m just sure they’re going to find something in a white powder and I’ll be on my way to my date with bubba. He slowly unwraps the foil, rubs it between his thumb and forefinger and while looking into my eyes tells her it’s nothing. I’m not sure if it was my imagination but I could swear that there was powder on the table (which I’m not about to point out…..”Hey! Isn’t that drugs?!”) The cop who’s run the background check tells the head supervisor that I’m ‘ok’. The supervisor tells me to be more careful of committing felonies in the future and the bear tells me I’m allowed to repack my bag better than he did if I want.

I got to the gate and directly onto the plane while thanking God for looking after a silly vain fashionista. Evidently they’re more sophisticated in Minneapolis than many other cities as the agents cumulatively decided that I was harmless and innocent but boy could that have turned out differently with different people.

The moral of the story: stupidity is now a felony but it is not punishable for the truly inept. That and be really, really nice to bears cause they may be the only thing standing between you and a really bad future. And be yourself; what saved me was when he had to cut open the lining of the jacket to get at the live ammunition and I asked him if it would be possible to cut open in the pocket and on the seam as that would be easier to fix. Everybody knows that fags don’t mess with guns!

Profile away as far as I’m concerned.