Paradox of Security

My internal alarm clock went off at 3:52 a.m. causing me to sit up straight and check the electronic clock.  My recently woken up brain felt scrambled as I tried to remember what day it was and what time I was supposed to be waking up to catch the flight.  Something was wrong.  The alarm hadn't gone off, we were already seven minutes behind schedule.  I poked Greg, announced the problem, and leapt out of bed.  We needed to be showered, dressed, fed,and ready to leave in thirty-eight minutes.  Kanti needed to be fed.  The last minute packing had to be finished.  Even with forty-five minutes it was tight; losing seven minutes made it a race.

We made it to the airport in time and for once there were no lines at security.  When I got on the plane I found out why there were no lines.  It seemed like there were fewer rules, they were not as stringent, and the results were surprising.  The lady sitting across the aisle pulled out her knitting.  She was knitting something beautiful with knitting needles that were ten to twelve inches long.  Airport security rules had flummoxed me once again.

The rules hadn't just flummoxed me they had confounded me.  How does it make any sense that you can not take a nail file on a plane but knitting needles are allowed?  Why is it that I have to take off my flip flops and my sweater but the lady on the next aisle can walk through with a head cover and long dress because of her religious leanings?  Why does my husband have to take off his ball cap but the other guy's turban remains firmly in place?  Do not misunderstand me.  I am not interested in a racial or religious dialogue on airport security rules as I respect and embrace the diversity.  However I am up to the gills with the ridiculousness of the rules from a reasonableness perspective.

There has been a lot written since 9/11 about airport security and we have gotten used to being herded through long lines, tersely told to remove our clothing and shoes, chastised because we removed said clothing and shoes when this particular security line didn't require it on this particular day of the week, and some of us have uncanny luck in being randomly selected for extra security shenanigans
every time we fly.  If only my LottoMax luck worked the same as that random selection business I'd buy my own plane and never have to sit across the aisle from a lady with knitting needles again!