This morning I am thinking about a funny thing that happened
to me at the airport a few months ago. It’s funny in retrospect, at
least. I was in line, waiting to pass through security as I had done
countless times before. I observed a few random travelers being
stopped after passing through the body scanner. Some were asked to
empty pockets. Others had their back, sides, or legs patted
down. All were quickly cleared and allowed to continue on their
way. I had always been able to breeze right through the body
scanner, and I was expecting nothing different this time. Well, I
was in for quite a surprise. When I exited the scanner, two
uniformed officials asked me to wait just a moment. I noticed that
they were both looking and pointing at something behind me, so I turned to see
what it was. It was a monitor. On the monitor was a
two-dimensional figure of me. The “me” on the monitor mimicked the
pose I had taken inside the body scanner—legs apart, arms up over my head as if
I were doing jumping jacks. Then I saw it…the thing that had captured
the security officials’ attention. It was a yellow, rectangular
shape. And the shape was positioned squarely over my crotch! I
thought to myself, “Surely they don’t think I’m packing heat in my
pants.” At first I joked within myself, thinking, “Well, I guess it has been
a really long time since…”
I was no longer amused when the female official said, “Okay,
I’m going to have to check you.” I can only imagine the look on my
face, but whatever it was it seemed to give her pause. She was
suddenly more tentative, trying to reassure me with, “I’m going to use the back
of my hand.” I stood there, utterly embarrassed, as the back of her
hand briskly bumped against places that just shouldn’t be touched by another
without my willful invitation. The pat down took less than three
seconds; then she told me I was cleared to go. But, before I could
even take a step, two more female officials approached me. One of
them announced (a little too eagerly, I thought), “We are going to have to pat
you down.” I said, “No, they just did!” The first two
officials nodded in confirmation, and I quickly walked away. All the
way to the gate to catch my flight, I thought about what had just
happened. And the more I thought about it, the more I became
angry. I couldn’t wait for my two travel companions to arrive so I
could tell them about the harrowing experience. As I recounted
the sequence of events, both of their faces lit up with amusement. By
the time I finished the story, the three of us were laughing
hysterically. In just a few moments, they helped me realize that the
source of my anger was my own vanity. It had always been perfectly
okay with me if other travelers got stopped and patted down. After
all, it was for a greater good. Yet, truthfully, I had fancied
myself to be above such a thing. For me, the experience was so much
more than a security check. It was an ego check.
Today, as I prepare my heart and mind for the start of a new
work week, I give thanks for life’s ego check points that have taught me
humility when I didn’t think I needed such lessons. I am truly
grateful for the disappointments, the trials, the tests, and the moments of
humiliation that I didn’t think I deserved. I find that I can now
relate more deeply and more genuinely to fellow travelers on this journey of
life, because I have been “touched” by the same hands of experience. I
am learning to be less critical and judgmental, but more sympathetic and
compassionate. Moreover, I am learning how to laugh at myself…to lighten
up…because there really is a greater good. Ultimately, it is my joy and
freedom and peace.
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