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| quote: | Originally posted by Banora
Hahaa, I'm going to use that line this summer when I leave for Europe:  "Why yes, I'd love some strawberries!"
My worst experience I ever had was in Chicago in 2005. Some moron in Sweden only checked my bag as far as Chicago instead of checking it all the way to Louisville. My bags combined easily weighed almost 150lbs (keep in mind I'm about 105lbs), and this wouldn't have been a big deal to recheck my bag...if the plane hadn't been two hours late arriving, and its the eve before Christmas Eve, so there are a shit-ton of people.
On the way over I ended up getting my period and didn't have anything to use but some toilet paper I would keep stealing from the bathroom. I only had 40 or so minutes to make my connection (recheck bags, go through security, then to the other terminal), so I am hauling these bags that weigh more than my body weight, blood dripping down my legs from the applied force (TMI I know) but I had on a coat that went to my ankles so it wasn't obvious, I'm jet-lagged as fuck and frantic to get home.
I get my bags checked no problem. I go through the security check point and I'm impatient, just wanting to get my bag and shoes and run to the end of the terminal. But oh no, nononono. I get selected for a fucking pat-down. So the woman takes me to the side of the line and pats me down. She then asks me to remove my coat. I was like "Uh, no. You've pat me down, you've checked in my pockets. Please let me leave, I have to make my flight in fifteen minutes." She told me again to take my coat off, and I won't, because I know my pants are stained with blood and I didn't want an entire line of people seeing this. I tried to tell her why (that I had my period) and she was like "I don't care, take your coat off." At this point I started to cry and told her I wasn't taking my coat off because I had blood all over my pants, and that she's wanded me, pat me down and everything else, what more does she want?
She calls security, who lead me into a room to the side. They were nice guys and were like "Whats the problem, why won't you take your coat off?" I'm still all kinds of crying from the stress, the fact I have five minutes to catch my plane, and just being freaked out, and I told them that I didn't feel comfortable taking my coat off because my pants were coated with blood from getting my period over the Atlantic. The guys (ironically) were like: "Oh, thats it? Okay you can go."
While I was inside someone (I'm assuming se-cunt-ity) had went through my carry-on and shit was strung out everywhere at the end of the conveyor belt. Nothing (that I know of) was taken.
Fucking bitch.  |
wow. I'm glad I get to use small regional airports mostly, they're way more helpful as a rule.
now inspector banora, find me a house 
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