Okay so there was a TSA butch older trainer lady and a nervous younger cis-gender lady trainee. Already I thought this was hilarious. But when I came through the arms-up circle scan, they looked at each other and pulled me aside. The butch one pointed to the scan and said See? She has a buttock anomaly. The straight trainee is horrified. Me, though? I’m delighted. Wait, I have a buttock anomaly?! I ask, cheerfully. I’ve never been happier. I’m peaking, right now.
They confer, determine I should STFU and listen. The trainer is going to train the trainee on how to pat me down. What she should say, which parts of me need patting. The trainer tells a story about a lady who thought anomaly was a diagnosis. Like, the x-ray machine was some Obama-care update and she just heard she had cancer. It took a long time to calm her down.
You wear pants under your dress, the trainer accuses. It’s true. There are pants under my dress. She walks the trainee through patting me down while I pull my dress up so she can pat my ass. It’s okay though because pants.
The trainee points to my hair so I take my hair down while she barks YOU DON’T HAVE TO TAKE IT ALL THE WAY DOWN. Okay. There isn’t really half-way with my hair, though. So, too late, but that’s cool.
Trainee and I think we are done, but Trainer says, Whenever you have a buttock anomaly, you need to pat down the thighs. So Trainee went for it. Without clarifying whether her palms or backs of her hands were the deal here. She just ran her palms up my thighs, getting right up there into my vulva, up till she ran out of thigh, jiggling a little, just to make sure.
Leave a Reply