Airport Security
by Baxter Black, DVM

I think it is easier than most, for a livestock raiser to adjust to the new restrictions placed on air travel since 9-11. This thought occurred to me as I stood in line at the Denver airport.

I estimated 650 people were queued up to go through ten scanners at the security checkpoint. I had already shown my I.D. once and been asked, in so many words, if I normally accept unopened packages from strangers, and have I left my bag unattended in a crowded concourse while I had breakfast or went to the bathroom.

As the interminable line wound it's way a two-step at a time, I expected a grim-faced security person to jab me with a cattle prod or broken plastic whip till I was nose to tail with the old gentlemen in front of me.

I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd suddenly been forced to jump off into a dipping vat or at least had felt a squirt of pour-on dribbling down my shirt collar. They checked my I.D. again. As I approached the squeeze chute the intensity grew. I could hear the `yah's and `yee haw's of the pushers crowding us forward. "Remove everything that even remotely might set off the metal detector; your jacket, your boots, your hat, your buckle, your crucifix, wedding ring (never mind, I see that's plastic), your watch, pencil, (has lead, you know), ball point, cell phone, lap top, Ralgro implanter, All Flex tagger, dehorning spoon, coins, acupuncture needles, hole puncher, nose ring, socket set, Leatherman, (oops, sorry we have to confiscate that) and flask.

I stripped to my skivvies and slipped through the scanner only to find I had been selected for the random search and palpation.

I could hear the headgate clang. I was immobilized. A cadre of professional probers wearing rubber gloves closed in on me. "Raise your arms." "May I pat you here?" "May I pat you there?" "Lift your leg," "Spread your toes", "Watch my finger", "Open your mouth," "Turn around," "Up against the wall redneck mother!"

The headgate opened, somebody hit me with a wand and I stumbled forward. I picked up my jacket, boots, hat, buckle and tray of suspect trinkets. They returned my hanging bag which had been examined for drugs, explosives, can openers, crescent wrenches, anvils, hoof nippers and toxic substances including Pop-tarts!

Suddenly I was free. There's got to be a better way, I thought. So here's my 4-point plan; check everything, carry nothing, wear only the essentials and look inconspicuous. Next Tuesday in the security line if you see a skinny guy in a cowboy hat wearing a big moustache and lime green leotards with an "Eat More Beef" logo on the left hind quarter, it's probably me. Not a bad plan, and 3 out of 4 ain't bad.