Guest author Tamra Jo Harrison

Trouble with the TSA

     “Next!” The friendly TSA agent waved us over.  I was feeling pretty confident as we made our way through the security line at SEA-TAC.  After all, this was our fourth and final checkpoint on our way home after an amazing family trip to Mexico.  We had made it through customs twice, managed to have all our paperwork and passports in order, and been searched in Cancun all without any major issues.  This final checkpoint should be nothing special.  The passports had been put away; all we needed were our tickets and IDs.  All of which I had neatly clutched in my hand ready to go as we approached the checkpoint.

     The agent took the pile of boarding passes.  Mine was the first to be scanned.  There was an audible, but nothing special, “beep” made and the agent got on her walkie-talkie, “We need a security manager at checkpoint five.”  She quickly scanned everyone else’s ticket, and then asked Hazelee how old she was.  “Eleven.”  The woman repeated her request for a security manager.

     She asked if I had ever gone through extra security screening, and I kind of laughed because I was the one who randomly got checked in Cancun.  Hazelee asked what was going on, and I explained that sometimes people get chosen randomly to go through extra screening.  No big deal.  I looked to the woman for reassurance, “Right?” “I really can’t comment on that ma’am.” Oh Shit.

    The security manager showed up and she showed him my boarding pass with a code written on it.  “Oh,” he said and physically took a step back.  Then the woman, who I had previously misjudged as friendly said, “and she is traveling with an eleven year old.” I could see the demeanor of the security guard change.  He began moving and talking more quickly.  It was as if adrenaline had kicked in.  He wiped his brow and got on his walkie-talkie and requested another officer.  I decided to name him Twitchy.

     From around the corner came the second security officer and he looked exactly like Brad Garret.  I found this amusing because Brad plays Raymond’s cop brother on the T.V. show Everybody Loves Raymond.  I was anxiously waiting for him to speak, maybe this was Brad Garret and we were on some hidden camera comedy show.  The woman looked at him and said, “Here is her ticket,” and then sort of quieter and leaning in she continued “…and she is traveling with an eleven year old.”  What is with all this “eleven-year-old” stuff?  Is that code for something?  Are eleven-year-olds a security risk all the sudden?  I looked down at Hazelee.  She was wearing a Puerto Morelos t-shirt, her pink backpack with a giant monkey face on it, and a giraffe airplane pillow wrapped around her neck.  Yeah, she looked like trouble.  

     Brad Garret looked at Steve and Corey, “You two are going to have to go to your gate.” Then he turned to Hazelee and me, “You two, come with us.”

     I told the boys to go ahead and kept a smile on my face trying not to worry anyone in the family further.  Twitchy took us through the checkpoint and had us unload all of our items into bins.  “All of your electronics must be able to be powered up.  Are they all charged?”  Hazelee tugged on my shirt, “My laptop isn’t charged.”  Brad Garret looked at me sternly and said, “If your electronics cannot be powered up you will not get past this checkpoint.”  What?  We are going to miss our plane because Hazelee’s cheap-ass Wal-Mart laptop isn’t charged?

  This laptop has been a pain in the neck from the beginning.  We have had to return it twice for a new one.  Sometimes it turns on, sometimes it doesn’t and it never holds a charge.  The only reason it made the trip was to placate Hazelee and her obsession with the damn thing.

    We found the charger and put it in the bin with the rest of the electronics.  In the meantime, Twitchy was anxiously waiting for us at the entrance to the x-ray machine.  His forehead now had a fresh sheen of sweat, and he kept asking Brad about protocol and which machines we needed to walk through.  This guy was clearly nervous, or excited, I couldn’t really tell which.

    At that moment it occurred to me that this guy thought he was about to save the day and stop some major terrorist attack.  There would be interviews, praise from his superiors, and maybe even a big promotion in his future.  Whatever secret code came up when they scanned my ticket must have been a good one.

     Hazelee and I were asked to go through three different full body x-ray machines before moving into another location where a female officer was waiting for us.  We were about to experience what Hazelee would later call “A firm Christmas pat down.”  The officer explained exactly what she was going to do and I saw Hazelee’s eyes get a little wider.  I told her I would go first and that there was nothing to worry about.  Luckily, our groping security guard had a nice smile and a sense of humor.  Her laugh put both of us at ease while Brad and Twitchy, along with a back-up squad of six additional officers, rubbed swabs all over every inch of our belongings.  

     I looked at the image produced by the x-ray machine and saw a tangle of various wires from our kindle and phone chargers.  I had them all plugged into a charging block.  The image on the screen looked remarkably like a ticking time bomb inside my backpack.  The next image was of my cell phone and the intricate circuits and wires within.  The security guys had circled everywhere the wires came together and Brad was examining the details with scrutiny.  In the meantime, the Mod Squad kept bringing back results from the swabs while Twitchy anxiously took notes.

Just then Brad got on his radio, “Are the dogs still here?”  Dogs?  Seriously?  In the back of my mind I kept picturing the scene from Planes, Trains, and Automobiles when the guy mockingly taps his watch and tells Steve Martin, “You’ll never make the six.”

     All the sudden, Brad looks at me and says, “You can go.”  What?  Really? I saw Twitchy’s shoulders slump a little.  There goes that promotion.  I didn’t ask any questions.  I quickly started to repack our belongings as Hazelee put her shoes back on. As we hustled through SEA-TAC, feeling confident we were going to make our flight, I wondered what Hazelee must have thought of our experience.  She suddenly looked up and me and asked, “Were they able to get my laptop working?”  

Scuba Steve

    Scuba Steve

    Brian had asked me if I wanted to go scuba diving with him several times during the trip and I had shown interest.  He told me all about it and convinced me that it would be safe and easy to learn.  “We’ll only be in less than fifteen feet of water so if you are in trouble you simply swim to the surface.” Okay.  Finally on the last night we decided to do more than talk about it.  “Let’s go tomorrow.” I said. It was decided.

     But Corey got sick in the middle of the night and none of us slept very well so the next morning was a slow mover indeed and I decided that I wouldn’t push the issue; we still had to pack. We were leaving today and the shuttle van would be picking us up at 3:00 P.M. to take us to the airport.

      At a quarter to two while sipping an incredible mango margarita, he came at me again.  “We could still make this happen Steve.”  I had been willing to let it go.  I had thought that if we were going to go we should have gone much earlier.  “We could do it in thirty, forty minutes tops.”  All the bags were packed, Corey was feeling a little better; what the hell.   Mango margaritas have a funny way of changing one’s mind.

    “Okay, let’s go.”  

   One of the two tanks was low on oxygen so Brian hustled down to the neighbor’s house to fill it up.  Brian’s dad Gary and his old friend and neighbor Matt went in together to buy a compressor years ago so filling up was never too big of a deal and they had all the dive time they wanted.  

    While Brian was gone Brent gave me the quick lesson.  He showed me a tethered gauge that had two displays;  one dial showed your depth in feet and the other showed you how much oxygen you have left.  Handy info.

       “Once you get in the water you are going to want to dial in your buoyancy.” He grabbed a different tube.  The end of this one had buttons on it.  “If you are sinking too much push this button.” he pointed to the red button.  He demonstrated and when he pushed it I heard a hiss.  “This will fill up your vest with oxygen and make you float.  The white button is the one you want to push if you are too buoyant and are having trouble diving down.”  He lifted the tube with the two buttons up above my head, “but to make the white button work you have to hold it up here or the bubbles won’t escape.”

     It all made enough sense to me so I strapped on the diving vest that was strapped to the tank of oxygen.  My guess was sixty pounds; pretty heavy.  I’ll have to admit it was a little unnerving to think about slinking into the water strapped to such a heavy object but I was willing to try and I always had that lovely red button to push that would shoot me to the top.  It reminded me of those life jackets with the CO2 cartridges.  When you pull the red cord it quickly inflates the vest and up you go.

       We walked down the beach a couple hundred meters. “We’ll put-in by that boat there and the current will take us back down the beach to the house.”  The first step in rigging-up was to strap a weighted belt on my waist.  It contained about ten large lead weights and it probably weighed another 20 pounds. Next I tightened the straps on the vest and put on the fins.  “Since we are putting the fins on the beach we’ll have to walk backwards into the water.”  Once I had back peddled into the water waist deep I put the mask tightly on my face and sucked in with my nose to seat the mask as tightly as I could on my face.  

    I have only snorkeled a handful of times and I must have a weird shaped face because I always have trouble with water leaking into the mask.  I did not want that to happen today with everything else I was trying to keep track of.  

    Next I put the mouth piece in my mouth and practiced breathing.  As every good snorkeler (and diver) must know, breathing through the mouth is the only option.  It may sound easy but breathing solely through one’s mouth is not normal or natural and although it’s easy to do for a minute or two I found that any little distraction would temp my nose to breath.  Reflexively trying to suck-in through the nose when there is no air to breath is to invite a sense of panic if not panic itself.

      I was planning to be mindful of this idea the whole time.  My mantra was “mouth breath, mouth breath, mouth breath” I knew I could drum-up enough presence-of-mind to be able to control it. Even if I lost my way Brian would be there to navigate.  It was my job to simply breath out of my mouth. Even if a moray eel decided to swim figure-eights around my legs, Brian would take care of it.  It was my job to breath…..through my mouth.

         After I was comfortable with mouth-breathing out of water I was ready to stick my face in it. No problem and no leaks from the mask.   I pushed out deeper using my fins to maneuver.  The plan was to feel this thing out and stay in fairly close to shore.  I was doing it, I was scuba diving!  Kiss my ass Jacques Cousteau there’s a new sheriff in town….Scuba Steve!

     Just then I noticed a few small fish swim right in front of my face.  I realized that I was still pretty close to the surface to I tried to use the white button so I could go deeper but it didn’t seem to do anything.  I dolphin-kicked my way to the bottom which was only ten feet or so and felt the familiar head pressure.  I remember from my younger days trying to dive to the deep end of the pool.  Some of my friends could swim right down there without issues, but I always got these awful head pains from the pressure.  This tiny distraction took me off my mantra and I did a nose/ mouth dose-e-doe. Mouth breath, mouth breath.

      I was able to avoid the dreaded panic and got the breathing under control but I decided that I wanted to go back in shallow, take a minute and collect myself.  As promised, Brian was right there and pulled up beside me.

    “How’s it going? Are you doing all right?”

    “Yeah, I just need to reflect on what I just learned, I want to go back out.”  We compared notes and decided that I needed some more weight so Brian gave me a couple of his lead bricks and put them into some pockets on the vest.  “Okay, lets go.”

      I was starting to feel more comfortable and we went out a little deeper.  The current was sweeping us along and we were able to get down to the bottom.  I saw something below me and sure enough it was a barracuda! Three passed right in front of us and Brian whipped out his camera.  There were a bunch of smaller fish too that were unfazed by our presence and swam quite close.  I looked above me and saw a needle fish scooting by and below me were some much larger fish that I couldn’t identify.

     “Wow, Brian that was an incredible experience, thank you!”  Brian shrugged it off as if were nothing but I was pretty impressed.

     We hauled the equipment back up to the house.  I grabbed a quick shower, we said our goodbyes, and we were off to the airport.  Back to Alaska.  Nice ending to a great trip.

Who would have thought that I could look so good in yellow?

Brian Mason and his son Sterling.