I Hate Airports

Dear Boise "International" Airport,

I have always appreciated the quaint nature of your facilities.  You are small, easy to navigate, parking is plentiful and relatively cheap, and you are rarely busy.  However, this morning you really disappointed me.  Granted, I am to share in the blame as I packed quickly and failed to see the error of my ways.  However, your FAIL was much lamer than mine.

See, I forgot to weigh my bags (big no no here in these United States) and was a whopping 10 lbs. over the limit.  Ouch.  Cue the creative packing.  (Keep in mind it's 4:30 AM and I spent most of the morning cleaning up a horrendous pile of dog crap on the newly cleaned carpets.) So yeah, I was tired.  Anyway, I immediately reached for the heaviest and most easily accessible items in my bag -- the toiletries.  This time around I came prepared, stocking up on shampoo, conditioner, face wash and toothpaste that does NOT taste like a french fry.  I frantically stuffed ALL of them in my backpack, and voila! I was under the weight limit.  

I schlepped my ass down to security, dutifully removed my laptop, shoes and hoodie, confident in my preparedness, and stepped through the detector.  And instantly TSA was on my ass like white on rice, informing me they'd need to search my purse, backpack, Timbuktu AND they'd like to re-send them all through the x-ray.  Fine.  I was in no hurry.  The Boise Airport is small, easy to navigate and rarely busy, so I had PLENTY of time.  Go ahead, search away.  That's when Mr. TSA started pulling out my precious toiletries, lining them up like soldiers waiting for the firing squad.  I was guilty.  Of stupidity and exhaustion.  Dammit.  And he was so cheery. "Would you like to voluntarily forfeit these items?" he chirped.  Voluntarily?  Fuck no I would not like to forfeit $30 in goods that will cost me twice as much in both time and effort to obtain in Korea.

Seeing as how I had no choice, however, I said I'd be happy to donate my goods to the TSA Toiletry Donation Fund.  I slipped on my flops, shoved Pearl back in her case and was about to zip up my backpack when I noticed Mr. TSA's glaring omissions: matches, two opened tubes of toothpaste, six bottles of nail polish, and nail clippers right there in plain sight.  In my backpack.  WTF?  Seriously?  How did he miss those things?  And how were they any safer than the clearly sealed bottles he'd just confiscated? For all he knew, I'd just smuggled the makings of a bomb in those containers.  Set fire to a little Pretty in Pink mixed with a dash of Orange Crush, and kaboom!, there goes the whole flight. Apparently he had far more use for my brand new bottles of Cetaphil and Sheer Blonde.  Boo.

On the upside, however, Boise scores major points for free wifi, empty flights and dollar Cokes. That's a far cry from the raping I got in San Fran.  $8 for a day of internet use and $3.28 for a 500mL Coke?  No thanks, I think I'll just nap on this here cushy bench.

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