Protecting America From Beach Shirts
I just had a strange man rub his hands all over my upper body. It was not a physical encounter I had requested.
I was checking in at the airport, for a flight to return home from a vacation at the beach. I was wearing a loose shirt I had on me to keep cool in the sun. The TSA security guard told me that my shirt was deemed suspicious because it did not cling to my body with sufficient tightness.
I guess I was supposed to feel grateful, that the Transportation Security Agency guard was keeping me safe from terrorists by rubbing his hands up and down my chest, sides and back. I suppose that Iwas expected to conclude that if Ihad not been caressed by a stranger, Americans would have died and the terrorists would win.
As his thumbs ran over my nipples once, twice, three times just to make sure that the little nubs were not deadly weapons, I just couldn’t summon the required feeling of Homeland gratitude.