Ramblings from my trip to California last week, where I was speaking at a trade show.

6:25am:

Me: “Oh good, it’s not too busy this morning.”

TSA Agent checking my ID: “Don’t jinx me…”

Me: “OK, well in that case, I hope it stays nice and slow for you today”

TSA:  “Actually I prefer it when it’s busy.”

Wait a minute — so this guy, who has the stability and focus of a police informant who forgot to take his adderal, is the guy I have to make sure I don’t piss off?

Because if if I do, he can have me strip searched, make me miss my flight… or even worse — potentially have me sit down in a darkened room, forced to answer one insipid question after another about why I was frustrated?

With barely 4 hours of sleep under my belt, it became very evident I wasn’t a kid anymore.  I could barely stand, let alone resist all the stupidity going on around me.

It was like there was an irresistible force field of “stupid” sucking us all into the vortex of the airport.

I NEVER agree to go through the new body scanners, but the thought of resisting and having to deal with a full body pat-down at this point, wasn’t something my tired brain had the patience or stamina to deal with, at this point.

All I wanted was to get on that plane and fall asleep.

Between my lack of sleep — and therefore complete lack of patience — I was already toasted, and my day had just begun.

Not good.

So, I marched through the machine, in line with everyone else… like lemmings over the cliff.  I extended my arms over my head like a chimpanzee showing off to visitors in the zoo, admiring his human-like similarities as they stood in front of his cage.

And before I knew it, I was unloading my laptop off the lunch bin in the conveyor belt, and stretching to grab my sneakers before they got too far out of reach.

All while trying my best to ignore the old woman behind me, who’s voice, like nails scraping across a chalkboard, was screaming, “Irrrvvv… did you get your sunglasses?”

“Irrrvvv, did they lose your glasses?”  “Irv, did you find them?”  “Come here, Irv – help me with these bags, will you?”

Oh, sweet tequila and lime.

Now go sell something, Craig Garber

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