So I was flying home from Milwaukee this morning and I very discretely leaned across to the ticket agent and said "I'd like to declare a firearm".
She began by saying okay, I need you to fill out these forms. I had been up since 4AM, the shuttle driver had lost us in traffic on four separate occasions. I was about to miss the flight. And I would have. But that's the last TSA agent I saw.
So this ticket agent gave me a form, oh…. six inches by three inches. And I looked at her strangely, before asking what do I do with this? She said "initial each page." I was thinking out loud at this point and said "oh, well… Okay. My husband must have done this while my back was turned." That's when she turned rude and said YOU! should have filled this out. By now I'm thinking oh ****, here we go. On page three was a list of "please check for any appropriate situations" or something.
Traveling with Prisoners was the subject of page three. It's 5AM, I've been up for an hour. It's been a long week. I'm exhausted. I'm not firing on all cylinders. I initialed the side and figured none applies, moving on. I look to the bottom of the page.
LEO SIGNATURE______________
WHAT THE HELL!? I put the pen down and said "Ma'am I'm not a law enforcement officer."
She said "well, you have a badge, what's your badge number?"
I just sat there looking at her slightly dumbfounded because this is most emphatically not how this went back home.
"I don't have one."
I guess the light finally dawned on the lady and she said "OOOOOOOHHH, I know what you want to do. You're declaring a firearm."
Finally she flopped the orange form up there. Oh thank you baby Jesus, we're cooking. I explained "Ma'am this is why I said my husband must have filled out the other while my back was turned. This, pointing to the orange card, I recognize."
Then the dumb twit asked how many bullets I have. Heck, I don't remember, ten, twelve. She said she needed to know exactly. So I brought out the box again, pulled out the ammo and counted. Twelve bullets. (It was the LCP .380 for taxi cab after dark purposes, nothing I'd cry about losing) She said oh, I just needed to know if you had under ten pounds.
Really? When I said ten or twelve bullets, after you asked how many bullets I had… You couldn't have said, oh… I don't know… BOXES?!?!?
Dumb cow.
Then my saviors in blue came along. The first three TSA agents were great. The first one was a young one, sweet as pie. He verified it was empty, helped me lock it all back up and invited me to stay next to him to make sure the firearm left their possession on the belt. The other older TSA agents saw me standing there and asked if I had a problem. I motioned to the young one and said he asked if I'd verify the case went through security. They both smiled very big and said 'handgun?". I said yes. It was that "awesome a lady is carrying her own firearm" smile. Not the snarky kind. There was some back and forth chit chat, not the "what are you doing with a gun" kind. Just casual kind. I don't care if they were checking me out for nervous tics. They were still friendly.
The security line into the gate was atrociously long. An hour wait long. Unbelievable. Not for every concourse, just E.
A, B, C, D may have been fine. It seemed as if everybody was traveling United this morning. After standing in line for a half hour, I saw a TSA agent walking through and I was nervous by now. I explained that the shuttle guy screwed me six ways to Sunday by taking an hour to go ten minutes, I had a flight out in 20 minutes. He put me in priority security for United Priority/Million Miles type people . Sweet. Yay.
I went through the body scanners. Figured every nurse and their momma saw me naked giving labor, hell if I care. My pants had silver thread decorations along the hem that pinged. The lady bent down, patted my ankles and explained that sometimes the decorative thread sets it off. I explained I also had a screw in my ankle so… She never went past mid-calf.
Two minutes later I have another TSA agent asking to inspect my bag. I'm completely confused because it was my purse and my purse was clean. He was business-like, stating that I wasn't allowed to touch the bag while he was inspecting it, etc etc. I nodded, and expressed concern because there's nothing in there. I had been so concerned about getting my jewelry findings across security, I had completely passed by the bottle of water I've carried every day for a week. He "broke character", grinned real big and recited the official rules about bringing liquid through the security line over 2 ounces. He chuckled over my reaction because it was a definite "omg, I can't believe I forgot that, I'm so sorry" He asked if I'd volunteer to relinquish it (of course), explained he had to run an article in my purse through (I'm assuming bomb components) residue detection box (looked like a giant microwave. And oh crap, it was at Red Jacket Bash… This is about to get very interesting) and then said he was going to send it back through the scanners. As I was leaving he said "don't feel bad, you're just one of the seven thousand that will come through and do the same thing today."
The original priority line TSA agent had come back. He asked if I was going to make my flight, I thanked him and said because of his help, yes I was. He said anytime that happens, and I'm going to miss my flight, jump into the priority line because they don't police who uses it.
I had heard TSA was trying to be a little more human. They were all very nice, cordial, helpful. Like I said, I set off the body scanners and she never went past my ankles during the pat down. And before she even touched me she explained why it was set off. They knew why, but it was procedure.
A little explanation. A little humanity, and a smile goes a long way. There were a couple more smaller instances. TSA agents were everywhere. But the biggest pain in my ass today was a United Ticket Agent.
Today was like flying before 9-11. As far as the attitudes went, I mean. Of course the liquids rules and the body scanner is what it is, but the employees of TSA can't make those decisions. Their bosses do so I don't count that against over all general attitude
It was a good trip.
She began by saying okay, I need you to fill out these forms. I had been up since 4AM, the shuttle driver had lost us in traffic on four separate occasions. I was about to miss the flight. And I would have. But that's the last TSA agent I saw.
So this ticket agent gave me a form, oh…. six inches by three inches. And I looked at her strangely, before asking what do I do with this? She said "initial each page." I was thinking out loud at this point and said "oh, well… Okay. My husband must have done this while my back was turned." That's when she turned rude and said YOU! should have filled this out. By now I'm thinking oh ****, here we go. On page three was a list of "please check for any appropriate situations" or something.
Traveling with Prisoners was the subject of page three. It's 5AM, I've been up for an hour. It's been a long week. I'm exhausted. I'm not firing on all cylinders. I initialed the side and figured none applies, moving on. I look to the bottom of the page.
LEO SIGNATURE______________
WHAT THE HELL!? I put the pen down and said "Ma'am I'm not a law enforcement officer."
She said "well, you have a badge, what's your badge number?"
I just sat there looking at her slightly dumbfounded because this is most emphatically not how this went back home.
"I don't have one."
I guess the light finally dawned on the lady and she said "OOOOOOOHHH, I know what you want to do. You're declaring a firearm."
Finally she flopped the orange form up there. Oh thank you baby Jesus, we're cooking. I explained "Ma'am this is why I said my husband must have filled out the other while my back was turned. This, pointing to the orange card, I recognize."
Then the dumb twit asked how many bullets I have. Heck, I don't remember, ten, twelve. She said she needed to know exactly. So I brought out the box again, pulled out the ammo and counted. Twelve bullets. (It was the LCP .380 for taxi cab after dark purposes, nothing I'd cry about losing) She said oh, I just needed to know if you had under ten pounds.
Really? When I said ten or twelve bullets, after you asked how many bullets I had… You couldn't have said, oh… I don't know… BOXES?!?!? Dumb cow.
Then my saviors in blue came along. The first three TSA agents were great. The first one was a young one, sweet as pie. He verified it was empty, helped me lock it all back up and invited me to stay next to him to make sure the firearm left their possession on the belt. The other older TSA agents saw me standing there and asked if I had a problem. I motioned to the young one and said he asked if I'd verify the case went through security. They both smiled very big and said 'handgun?". I said yes. It was that "awesome a lady is carrying her own firearm" smile. Not the snarky kind. There was some back and forth chit chat, not the "what are you doing with a gun" kind. Just casual kind. I don't care if they were checking me out for nervous tics. They were still friendly.
The security line into the gate was atrociously long. An hour wait long. Unbelievable. Not for every concourse, just E.
A, B, C, D may have been fine. It seemed as if everybody was traveling United this morning. After standing in line for a half hour, I saw a TSA agent walking through and I was nervous by now. I explained that the shuttle guy screwed me six ways to Sunday by taking an hour to go ten minutes, I had a flight out in 20 minutes. He put me in priority security for United Priority/Million Miles type people . Sweet. Yay. I went through the body scanners. Figured every nurse and their momma saw me naked giving labor, hell if I care. My pants had silver thread decorations along the hem that pinged. The lady bent down, patted my ankles and explained that sometimes the decorative thread sets it off. I explained I also had a screw in my ankle so… She never went past mid-calf.
Two minutes later I have another TSA agent asking to inspect my bag. I'm completely confused because it was my purse and my purse was clean. He was business-like, stating that I wasn't allowed to touch the bag while he was inspecting it, etc etc. I nodded, and expressed concern because there's nothing in there. I had been so concerned about getting my jewelry findings across security, I had completely passed by the bottle of water I've carried every day for a week. He "broke character", grinned real big and recited the official rules about bringing liquid through the security line over 2 ounces. He chuckled over my reaction because it was a definite "omg, I can't believe I forgot that, I'm so sorry" He asked if I'd volunteer to relinquish it (of course), explained he had to run an article in my purse through (I'm assuming bomb components) residue detection box (looked like a giant microwave. And oh crap, it was at Red Jacket Bash… This is about to get very interesting) and then said he was going to send it back through the scanners. As I was leaving he said "don't feel bad, you're just one of the seven thousand that will come through and do the same thing today."
The original priority line TSA agent had come back. He asked if I was going to make my flight, I thanked him and said because of his help, yes I was. He said anytime that happens, and I'm going to miss my flight, jump into the priority line because they don't police who uses it.
I had heard TSA was trying to be a little more human. They were all very nice, cordial, helpful. Like I said, I set off the body scanners and she never went past my ankles during the pat down. And before she even touched me she explained why it was set off. They knew why, but it was procedure.
A little explanation. A little humanity, and a smile goes a long way. There were a couple more smaller instances. TSA agents were everywhere. But the biggest pain in my ass today was a United Ticket Agent.
Today was like flying before 9-11. As far as the attitudes went, I mean. Of course the liquids rules and the body scanner is what it is, but the employees of TSA can't make those decisions. Their bosses do so I don't count that against over all general attitude
It was a good trip.
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but her search was very thourough
