I live for stories like this. Have you heard about this one yet? It's hysterical. For the last two days I have not been able to not break out into snorting laughter when someone even says a word that remotely rhymes with dildo. BTW, much like "orange", there are NO words that rhyme with "dildo". Trust me, I have Googled it with no success.
OK, short story long. A woman flying from Newark, NJ to Dublin on vacation goes to "Babeland" (yes, it really was called that) and purchases a dildo that she feels will not alert the TSA officials when she packs it in her checked luggage. Oh sweet jesus, what is stranger, buying a dildo that meets TSA standards or thinking that anything in your checked luggage isn't going to give TSA a hard-on that demands a search??? So, she gets to Dublin, checks into her hotel and begins to unpack. What does she find inside the suitcase that has the dildo in it? One of those ubiquitous TSA forms that lets you know that your luggage was selected for a "random" search. And on the the official form is a note written in ink that says "Get your freak on!". Well, of course, she feels horribly "violated" by this action. Personally, I would have been standing there in the hotel room, laughing my ass off and raiding the mini-bar with a vengeance. But that's just the way I am... This woman scanned the TSA form into her computer and posted it on her blog. Guess what, it has gone wildly viral. It's everywhere. And she is so pissed off she could eat nails. Hey, lady, exhale. You have proof that at least one TSA Nazi has a sense of humor and you still have your dildo. It was NOT misinterpreted as a potential incendiary device and detonated on the tarmac. FYI to the TSA, by their very nature and design and how they are meant to be used a dildo is not meant to explode. You? Yes! The dildo? No!
Again, I know her anguish...
Several years ago on our return trip back to the States from Mexico I found myself in a somewhat similar situation. Does this surprise you at all??? We were flying Business Class that trip so we had pretty much unlimited checked luggage availability which I of course pounced on like a street dog on an unguarded child. Two of my three checked suitcases went down empty so I could fill them up on one of my famous Mexican shopping sprees. Which I happily did. On the way back all three of my suitcases were not only grossly overweight and WAY over the limits on things like booze (just shy of a full case) and cigarettes (about ten cases) but stuffed full of groceries, handicrafts (I love that term, it's so all encompassing) and assorted weird shit that only I can find in a serious alley crawl south of the border. Now, Mexico has its own version of the TSA. It's called the TdHdC. Which basically translates to Transportante de Horrible de Chupacabra. They descend upon you like a swarm of flies before you get closer than 20 feet to the check-in counter, seize your luggage, spread it out on banquet tables and begin to rummage through it like they were at a flea market. OK, I'm used to that so I'm not paying attention to what is going on until I notice that Sea Squirt has this rather shocked look on his face that was a bit deer in headlight-esque and he's staring over my shoulder. Then I turned my head and saw what was getting his attention. The TdHdC guy has just opened my first suitcase and is starting to go through my shaving kit. What does he have hanging off of his rubber gloved index finger? A cascade of 4 cock rings. One metal, two leather and one a combination of the two. Oh, fuck... And btw, I do indeed travel internationally with a selection of those things. Yes, I am indeed THAT gay...
Suddenly I find myself between a rock and a really shitty place. Sea Squirt is beside himself, I'm trying not to burst into laughter or make myself look like I have a couple of kilos of coke up my ass and I'm desperately trying not to strangle the rancid old queen at the table to my left who is getting her luggage raped but is snickering at what is happening to me. Well, since I didn't know how to say "baby bracelets" in Spanish (which I knew stood a snow balls chance in Jalisco of even getting remotely airborne) I was considering just pointing at the rancid old queen to my left and starting to scream "Le Bomba!!! Le Bomba!!!" at the top of my lungs. Which, btw, does not mean "bomb" in Spanish as much as it means "water heater" but I figured, what the hell, I have nothing to lose at this point. Then I hear the sound of grinding metal as all of the gears inside TdHdC guys head lock as he finally realizes just exactly what he has hanging off of his finger actually is. At that point I am resigned to being led away to a small, windowless room and forcibly strip searched by a crowd of badly uniformed Federale's who are all making a rather unsettling sucking noise through their teeth and saying something loosely translatable as "Hey, Bay-bee!!! Hey, Bay-bee!!!" while they make me dance on a table for them.
Luckily, calmer heads prevailed. TdHdC guy slipped the chandelier of cock rings back into my shaving kit, zipped it up, put it back into my suitcase, closed it and then proceeded to grab all three of my suitcases off of the table and took them straight to the check-in counter with a look of disgust on his whitened face which, I might add, is quite difficult for a Mexican national to attain. After he gave my luggage to the ticketing agent he grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer from the counter and drank it. Two minutes later we are ticketed, boarding passed and on the escalator up to the boarding level, where I immediately plant my ass at the first bar I can find, slam a couple of shooters and then head to the Duty Free area to fill my empty shoulder bag with a couple of more bottles of tequila and a carton or two of more cigarettes. Needless to say, Sea Squirt was appalled at my bravado. Fuck him.
Guess who sat directly across the aisle from me from Vallarta to O'Hare??? That snickering, rancid old queen who was not at all happy since she had gotten her luggage dumped completely out on the table and had been put face up against a wall and patted down like an illegal alien. Hey, bitch, what comes around goes around... I happily drank my way to O'Hare and relished on the two contraband apples I had stashed in my shoulder bag. Apparently, if you distract security with some rather unsavory sex toys they just don't seem to care that you're smuggling produce...
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