As we snaked through line we noticed a giant metal and plastic cylinder making a humming noise.

“What’s that?” we asked the TSA agent.

“It’s a body scanner,” the TSA agent replied.

“Is the body scan compulsory?”

“Are you refusing the body scan sir?”

“Yes.”

The agent than called over another agent for a “manual” inspection. Manual, having to do with the hands, meant hands on. Quite literally.

“Sir, because you have refused the body scanner I will be giving you a through manual pat down. Please spread your arms and turn around.”

“But my computer and wallet are in the x-ray machine. I won’t be able to see them if I turn around.”

“They’ll be fine sir.”

“I’m sure they will. But I won’t be able to see them if I turn my back. I would like to keep them in sight.”

“Someone in a blue shirt will be watching them. They’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure they will. I’d like to keep them in sight.”

“Fine. Step over here.” He moved the items and to where we could see them and then described what he was about to do.

“I will pat down your entire body using my gloved hands. On your legs and buttons I will lightly cup your jeans. If you prefer a private inspection one can be arranged. For your front I will be using the back of my hand to pat down the zipper area.”

Then he started. And frankly, we haven’t received that much thorough attention from a stranger in quite some time. Other passengers passed by, some averting their eyes and others grinning (either out of sympathy or lechery, it was hard to tell). It took about five minutes of careful, gentle, comprehensive molestation by a public servant.

And then at the end, apparently without any sense of irony, he finished his lingering inspection of your editor and said, “That’s it. You can go now. You’re a free man.”