Poetry at Work: The Airport Security Check-In

I’m on my way to San Antonio, and I’m standing in the security line at the airport, waiting my turn to deposit my belt, shoes, jacket, wallet and change, laptop and carry-on bag in the plastic bins for x-ray, and then to follow through x-ray myself. This is air travel in 21^st century America: herded, x-rayed, checked, peered at, prodded and eventually you get to your destination.

I’m thinking about the first time I flew on an airplane – it was 1959, and I was flying to spend a week with my grandmother. I had to dress up, Sunday best, because that’s what you did in the glamour days of flying. The stewardesses wore white gloves; even coach had linen napkins.

I notice a TSA agent standing in front of the x-ray scanners. He’s counting down the line. I look around; no one else notices, too intent on preparing for the security ordeal.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Photograph by Petr Kratochvil via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.