Travel Fun

I would have posted this last night, except it was nearly 2 AM. So here it is now.

I didn't blog for the past week (read: weeks) or so because (a) I was in Texas visiting my grandparents (for the past week), and (b) I'm sorta lazy. Hey, it's summer.

Anyway, we had a lot of fun doing things like computer troubleshooting and ordering cable internet (my grandparents have dialup at the moment) and cooking. And eating at nice restaurants, playing a domino game called Chickenfoot that no one really knew the rules to, and listening to them tell stories of what life was like way back when.

But the truly hilarious-ish thing happened on the way home.

A long time ago (past four/five years, anyway), my parents decided that three days of driving to get to Texas was a bit excessive and that a three hour flight is better. Fine with me.

So, on this trip, we left Virginia a day or two before this whole terrorist-with-liquid-and-wristwatch deal. Security was normal. When we left, it was still elevated from the craziness. And my dad decided to take most of his camera equipment as carry-on luggage.

So his camera bag is the lucky one to be tested for explosives. The lady, who knew very little about cameras, pulled out each lens, poked and prodded, and put it back. She was suspicious of my dad's camera because it has some kind of motorized attachment on the base that allows it to take pictures faster. That makes it heavy. Thankfully, she called over another security guy who happens to be a professional photographer, who explained the attachment to the lady (who was probably in training, now that I think about it). The guy and my dad talked a little about photography; has my dad ever been published? no? you should try it. it's fun, you can make some money, yadda yadda yadda. The security lady continues searching. What did she see next that was suspicious?

A nine-volt battery.

She asked my dad why he was carrying the battery. He told her he just needed somewhere to put it. She didn't like that. The way she acted made me wonder if anyone had been able to detonate anything serious with such a little battery. It probably couldn't do more than scorch the tray table, but she was insistent and talked with some security guards for a while.

Eventually, we got out of security with the nine volt battery intact. Thankfully, I didn't mention the four AA batteries in my iPod battery extender pack or the AAA in my insulin pump. Or any of my gadgets. Why a nine-volt battery? Why not our iPods?

All the way home (in the car, leaving the airport—we weren't going to say this on the plane!) we kidded my dad about being a nine-volt battery terrorist. I know that terrorism itself isn't funny, but imagining anyone trying to blow something up with a battery that small is. Ahh, good times.

And she didn't even take the nail clippers he had on him. (Really!)