'that close'...

... to (possibly) being detained and incarcerated. I thought I had come dangerously close to being classified as a criminal with terror in my heart. And would have likely been terrified myself if the tale had ended differently, and I had actually been locked away.

When I got put out at the airport before daylight on Wednesday morning, I had to stop and search on those big lighted displays right for a Delta flight. Then decided I'd best make a stop by the facilities before getting in the long, meandering, slow line, that might could stall out (like Atlanta traffic!) as we laboriously, obediently made our collective way through the screening process. So naturally, while in the 'Ladies', as I was carefully guarding  my person and baggage to prevent tampering by miscreants, the gate info. slipped out of my brain, requiring me to return to the big lighted displays to confirm.

Then on to the dreaded inching-along line to be squeezed into the system, scanned for contraband. Over time I have figured out to have a plastic zipper bag handy, drop everything in the clear bag and zip it shut, contain all that must come out of pockets. With wallet, change, phone, misc. to keep up with, it seems like a simple solution to empty pockets and put it all in a bag that you can just grab out of the plastic bins at the far end of the scan process.
 
The last couple of times I have been through the pre-boarding routine, I decided to wear my knee brace on the outside of my pants, to ease the process of being frisked. If they can see it, and wipe it down for trace elements, it just simplifies the necessity to be assured of safe passage. Plus it makes me look disabled, and gives the workers the opportunity to shunt me off into the shorter line where people in rolling chairs, transported to their flights by airport personnel.

I completely totally forgot about that folding knife in my pocket. When I reached in to get out my phone and insert in the zipper bag, out came the knife. After I said: 'Oh, s#!t', I immediately reached over and dropped it in the nearby trash can. Probably placed there for that specific purpose. Instantly, without hesitation, just tossed it in where it landed with a small 'clang'. Gone forever. I cannot even begin to imagine what the response would have been if I had put it in my zipper bag for all to see, or tucked it away in my luggage.

Sadly, I had just found it the day before when it appeared in the bottom of the washer. I must have left it in a pocket and it came out during the agitation process with a load of dark clothing. I was so pleased to recover it, as it had been missing for some days leaving me thinking: Long Gone. But I did not for one instant think of how I might hold on to it  - just leaned over the opening in that trash can and let it go.

Interesting to look back over that seconds long event of me disposing of my accidental weapon and see that I did not hesitate. I am now surprised as I consider the fact that I made no effort at all to negotiate... I guess I just wanted to get through that screening and on to the plane-train, move on in hope of being allowed to board when I got to the gate, wanting desperately to fly, that I knew conversation was not an option?