In TSA's defense, I've always said that one man's penis is someone else's suspicious package

So last week Nick and I flew - just the two of us!! - to New Hampshire.

There's much to say about the trip (using adjectives such as beautiful! fun! fantastic! and lots of exclamation points), but that's a whole nother couple posts.

Those of you who know me know I'm a twitchy flyer. My preference is to arrive at the airport hours ahead. I like to be securely on the plane with plenty of time to spare.

Whereas Nick is all, why waste time at the airport? Why get on the plane before you have to?

Well. So you have time to stow your luggage, securely fasten your seatbelt, read the safety instructions, locate the flotation device and make sure your seat back is upright and your tray table is in the locked position and then take out your snacks, your book, your bottle of water?

Anyway.

We celebrated by getting lunch at the airport TGI Friday's right outside of security. I wanted to get through security first - who cares where we eat? But Nick wanted to eat, and anyway, we had so much time. And security was like 10 steps away. Lisa.

But lunch took a little longer than anticipated. He could see me getting worked up, and kept pointing out that the security line - right next to us! - was short. It would take seconds!

What he didn't notice was that there was a trainee looking at documents. So we got in line and didn't move. And didn't mooooooove.

Finally, fiiiiinally, we got through, with me on the verge of shrill and pinchy.

We're both used to going through security, and thus efficient about shoes, laptops, etc etc. I was ahead of Nick. I walked into that machine that closes and they make you put your hands up, and then they had to pat my ankle or some random thing, and then I was done.

That part went rather quickly.

I put my shoes back on, gathered the various pieces of whatever that had been pulled out and put in separate bins...and then I waited. And waited.

Finally, finally Nick made it across the Rubicon.

He was laughing as he put on his shoes and fished his belt, wallet, spare change, BlackBerry, keys, and bag out of the bins.

Me: WHAT took you so long?

Nick: The TSA woman asked me to empty my pockets. So I did.

Me: And then?

Nick: Then I tried to walk through, and she stopped me and said, "You need to make sure your pockets are empty." and I said, "They are."

TSA Lady: Are you sure?

Nick, again trying to walk forward: Yes.

TSA Lady, stopping him: No keys? Change? They need to be completely empty.

Nick, giving her a look: They're empty. What are you implying?

TSA Lady: I...Nothing!

Nick: Are you sure you're not implying something? Just tell me if you are.

TSA Lady: No!

Nick: Well, this is awkward.

TSA Lady: Go ahead.

And then she let him go through, and he was so delighted with the whole thing that he even stopped to tell the ticket-takers at the gate even though we were the absolute last people on the plane with NO MINUTES to spare.