An Open Letter to the TSA

Dear TSA,

The thing about airports is that you're not really sure what city (and sometimes country) you're in. It gets confusing enough when you fly from Europe and land in New York at the same time that you left. Or when you fly from New Zealand and land 8 hours before you left (but still don't have enough time to go to In N Out Burger). What's even more confusing is that sometimes you you can be in the airport in Dublin, Ireland, but technically be on US soil. That one really messed with my head.

I've got to hand it to you. FINALLY, someone has taken some of the best parts of Las Vegas and put them in 68 airports across the United States

. No, I don't mean the slot machines. No, I don't mean Cirque de Soleil which is the only circus that I think I would like because there are no horses and the chances of a clown falling and getting injured are pretty high. And if you know anything about me, you know that I'm afraid of both horses and clowns. Ha! I can't believe I just wrote that... "If you know anything about me." You're probably spying on me reading my old blog entries right now. No, my dear TSA, you've essentially made public groping legal all throughout the airports in the US. Truly, way to use your hands to get a job well done.

[See what I did there?]

Don't worry. I'm not flying anywhere this week. I mean, I do pull down delivery boy man money and all but flying up to Michigan to see my sister or down to Florida to see my parents for Thanksgiving would cost me about $450 and that's just not the kind of coin I'm willing to drop... Especially considering that I just spent $272 for my flight up to Michigan for Christmas. That being said, no 'security agent' is going to get into a stink over me this week. And, yes, I use the ' marks properly. If it came down to brass tacks, and this is purely hypothetical, there's no way a 38 year old 240 lb woman wearing polyester pants, or a 61 year old man with a clip on tie is going to be able to run me down. I'm no Adonis but I'm in pretty good mediocre shape.

Bearing in mind the fact that I am not Adonis and the fact that they probably don't teach Greek mythology at DeVry Technical Security Groping school, let me just tell you that Adonis was the man. Go look him up. That being said because I'm not him, it's been a while since I've had a good grope.

What? This is my letter to you. I love you guys.

So here we are at a paradox. As you probably know from my wonderful blog entries, I am really for individual freedoms and personal responsibility... but being that my blog is named "Looking for Like", I'm also looking for some woman to fall hopelessly in love with my writing and then want to ravage me and my somewhat flabby physique. You, TSA, have put me in a very confusing place. The part of me that wants to defend my civil liberties hates you but the part of me (*wink) that wants some woman to look at me oh so lustfully doesn't. Well played, Big Brother. Well played.

As the saying goes, all is a game and honestly until just now I didn't know what side of the fence I was on. It's Team Civil Liberty for me! However, since you guys seem to get your jollies on sliding your hands up and down some hobbit's dude's legs I think I've got the perfect solution. Wait! Two perfect solutions!

Number one: The Dirk Diggler. Did you see the end of Boogie Nights? You didn't? Okay... Stop what you're doing right now and go watch it.

Done? Okay. Good. I'll put on a big ol' prostetehcincicncichj7299mdic [sp?], you'll feel good about yourself, I'll feel good about myself, and your body image scanners will feel good about themselves. Everyone wins.

Number two: The This is Spinal Tap moment. You know when Harry Shearer's character is

going through the security line and... well...

Take your pick, TSA, it's up to you. I'm basically throwing myself at you.

Now, alot of you TSAers might be reading this and thinking, "Who's this smart ass?" Hell, since I've made this an open letter and am posting it on my blog, most people who read this are probably thinking the same thing. That is a totally founded statement. I am a smart ass. I can deal with that. Most everyone seems to love this impish little scamp. Now that that's established and agreed upon, the next thing that you're probably thinking is "I bet he's just really uncomfortable with is body" this is what I look like in a bikini:

If that doesn't get your heart racing, I don't know what will.

So, TSA, I will see you at Christmas-time. I look forward to meeting you about half as much as you look forward to feeling me up. Until then, you'll just have to look at that picture up thurr and imagine.

Sincerely,

Stephen P Bohn

The Great Nashville Weather Penis of 2010

I'm sure by now you all know what is happening in Nashville in terms of the weather. This is honestly the most insane weather I have ever experienced... And this is coming from someone who once endured 17 inches of snow in 4 hours. The official rainfall amount at Nashville's airport (BNA) yesterday was 6.32 inches. I've heard reports and read rumors that as much as 10 inches of rain had fallen in some parts of Tennessee. And, at 5:30 this morning, I was awoken by the storm siren a few miles from my house indicating that this shit ain't over yet: I've been reading on internet that Nashville can expect another 2 to 5 inches of rain today.

The worst part about it for me? Well, there are two things. Number one is that my knees and ankles feel like they're the size of volleyballs. All this moisture is making them very sore. Number two is that I almost killed some guy on I40 east late yesterday after making an (I kid you not) "emergency corsage" delivery out to Briley and Elm Hill Pike. Some dude in an SUV thought that doing 75 on the freeway in this torrential downpour was a good idea... Apparently no one ever told him that switching lanes rapidly and putting your car on its side and then slamming into a guardrail while just missing hitting the most talented weekend flower delivery of all time's van wasn't the smartest idea in the world. I know this picture doesn't show it too well, but that is the Broadway-West End split that was pretty well flooded. This was taken from the inside of the shop delivery van which is gigantically awesome!

You guys remember the end of O, Brother, Where Art Thou? Yeah... This is a bit like that. This is I24 at Bell Rd on the southeast side of town. Yes, that is a building. Yes, those are semi-trucks.

And, if for some reason you can't view the video (it's acting a bit wonky for me), click here and watch it directly on youtube.

Of course, there is some humor to be found in all of this. There usually is. "What could possibly be funny about this?" you ask. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Great Nashville Weather Penis of 2010:
New Zealand really better be worth this. I mean... REALLY.



Friends, stay safe out there...

Stouts and 'ports

I'm sure by now you've all heard about the "terror" attack at Detroit Metro Airport on Christmas day. Since there are about 11 cable news chanels all clamoring for the same sandwich of a story, they did nothing but report on that one story. 'Specially FOX News. Now, none of that really matters because all of those stations are guilty of the same sort of sensationalism and also because I happen to live fivehundredsomeodd miles away from Detroit. Except for it was Christmas time, my mom and dad live a hop, skip, and a jump from Detroit Metro, and I fly all of once a year. Guess where I had to fly out of last night. C'mon. Guess. This story is already shaping up to be very "Costanza" like.

With as much coverage as this story was receiving and as many times as the news stations made sure to announce "If you are flying out of Detroit Metro Airport, prepare for increased security, long lines, and bring your patience [insert co-anchor's nervous laugh here]. The TSA is recommending that all domestic travelers get to the airport at least 3 hours in advance." I figured I'd better get there early. That was a hell of a long sentence. But get there early, I did. There was no way that I was going to get spend the night in Detroit only to wake up, catch a 6 am to Nashville, and then head straight to work. No sir. And so, I arrived 3 hours early.

Does anyone want to take a guess how long it took me to get out of my dad's car, through the security line including extra questioning (because I always get extra questioning), through the entirety of the world's second longest terminal (Concourse A measuring a full mile long), on to terminal B, and to my gate situated near the end of said terminal? C'mon... Anybody.

18 minutes.

That's right.
18 minutes. And I don't walk that fast.

I arrived to my gate 2 hours and 42 minutes before my flight was scheduled (which will become a very important word as you will see) to depart. Hell, the prior flight that was scheduled to leave from my gate hadn't even boarded yet.

So what did I do? I went and had pints. Several. If there are two things that I learned yesterday, they are as follows:
1.) Don't listen to the news 'cause they are full of hate propoganda even if there is just a handful of dudes fuckin' up air travel for the rest of the world, and
2.) You haven't lived until you've been drunk on an airplane.

Seriously. It was one of the more proud moments of my life. Suddenly the hour and fifteen minute delay that was magically tacked on to my wait (putting me at Detoit Metro for about four full hours) didn't seem too bad. Sure, I had to pee alot but, damnit, it was worth it. If it wasn't my finest hour, it was pretty close. For a a brief moment, I knew what it felt like to be Noel Gallagher... but without being cheeky, British, and lacking a god complex. I can hear you asking "But isn't he a singer, too?" Yes. He is. And after busting out a karaoke version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" [don't get too excited, it's not an actual clip of my rendition from last night], you could say that I am, as well. By the way... The Asian dudes at the bar didn't like it as much as I thought they would. Here I am trying to reach out to our brothers across the sea and spread some goodwill and all they wanted to do was drink Suntory and quietly judge me. I didn't get a single "domo arigato" from any of them. Not one.

Well, my flight finally left and arrived back home to Nashville "International" Airport. I put that word in quotation marks because I have never seen a flight listed that has been of the international variety leaving from BNA and I'm one hell of a skeptic. Upon arriving to the, uh, arrivals section, this is what it looked like for all of 10 minutes before the hellish traffic broke loose:

Or... Until I realized I was down at the Departures section. Don't judge me... The aforementioned Asian fellows did enough of that last night.

It was a long, strange adventure getting home from Detroit last night. But at least I had fun. Air travel, folks, is what you make of it. 'Cept for when dudes try to blow you out of the sky.