Last week was my first time using my new “TSA Pre Check” status.
In order to register for the card I had to go to a government building downtown, which was a very big deal for me because I typically avoid any buildings like that. Imagine your DMV then multiply it by 100, that’s what it’s like going to government places in Chicago. I’ve fought speeding tickets and waited in line to buy parking passes for hours…. days even.
But the TSA Pre Check was worth it. (And in reality it took five minutes once I got there. So whatever.)
Chris however, missed his TSA appointment so he wasn’t going to be able to breeze through security with me. So like the good fiance I am, I politely told him several times before we flew out last Wednesday that I would be leaving him in security.
“I’m sorry, but I paid for this. I went to a government building and everything. So I have to use it, okay?”
He didn’t care since he’s not nearly as airport crazy as I am. He doesn’t go nuts about choosing the “right line”, or fret about walking in his socks on the dirty airport floor, or believe every TSA agent is secretly conspiring against him to make him late. Like I said, he’s normal.
So last Wednesday we got to the airport and it was moderately busy, I looked at my boarding pass no less than 10 times to see the magical “TSA Pre Check” written on it, and as we walked toward security when I started smugly telling Chris good-bye, I noticed the line.
I noticed that the line for Pre Check was longer than the regular line.
And just like that the song from Curb Your Enthusiasm started playing in my head, as it always does when I feel like I’m Larry David. Chris started laughing and walked away as I stood dumbfounded with my stupid Pre Check boarding pass in hand, ready to “fly through security.”
My life, ladies and gentlemen.
Anyway, I wanted to write a really solid post today since I missed a few days last week. Clearly, I did that! You’re welcome.
Truthfully, I woke up feeling like someone punched me in the throat. I love that first sign of a sore throat, it’s like your body is saying, “get ready, I’m about to dump some real nasty shit on you.” Yay.
And I may have to drive 400 miles today because of a little t-shirt emergency. I’ll go into more detail later. Or maybe I won’t, I don’t want to ruin the magic of the t-shirt industry for you. It’d be like seeing Goofy take off his head at Disney World. I just don’t think you could handle it.
Don’t worry, I’ll be back with 100 new posts this week sure to change your life.