It turns out that I have some kind of allure when it comes to American folks in official/authority roles. Going back to last year’s Summerslam visit, I remember the TSA security guy at the metal detector machine stopping me before looking me straight in the eye, fixing me with a stern gaze and asking: “Are you alright? You look really down.”
That’s not exactly the kind of TSA story you get on Reddit all the time.
Ditto today/yesterday/whenever the fuck it was. Security guy who tells you to take your shoes and belt off looked at me, smiled and said “awesome t-shirt – that’s so funny”, to which I charismatically responded with a ‘muh’ or something. Went through security, it beeped a different beep for ‘additional screening’ – I assumed I was going to get rubber gloved to death (up the bum). Fortunately it was just a swab of my palms to see if they had any traces of chemicals on them. So I’m standing there holding my palms out while the TSA guy puts the swab thing in a machine, before turning back to me and saying “all good” and low-tenning me.
It must be my cheery demeanour.
Then throw in the air hostess who couldn’t read my phone-based boarding pass and said “I’ll let you find it yourself, you have an honest face”. I can blame that on her not being able to see. And, of course, the customs official on viewing my passport (long hair) smirking at me and asking “have you had a haircut, sir?” only to be met with a counter smirk and a “no”.
Didn’t get shot.
Then I got upgraded to economy plus for no real reason. Them Yanks love me, for some reason. Though only if they’re officials and in an airport. The rest probably hate me.