Borrowed from “The Onion”
Skimming the news this weekend, an article caught my eye.
“Did you know they’re removing some of the scanners from the airports?” I asked Alan.
“Oh yeah? The invasive scanners?” he clarified. “Not a surprise.”
“Invasive? What do you mean?”
“You know, the ones that show you naked,” he prodded.
I shook my head. “I thought that was a wives’ tale. I mean, they don’t actually show you naked.” I paused. “Do they?”
He nodded. “Do a Google image search. You’ll see.”
I thought he was surely pulling my leg. I mean, I fly ALL the time. There’s no way they’d allow TSA officers to take naked scans of me, would they?
I searched. Images like this came up:
“Are you serious? This is what it really looks like?” I asked, incredulous.
Alan nodded. “You seem freaked out.”
“I am,” I said. “I mean, I didn’t know they could actually see my naked body!”
“What would you have done?” Alan asked.
“Um, probably stood taller. And definitely sucked my tummy in.”
He started laughing. “So what did you think the scan looked like, if not a naked photo of your body?”
“I don’t know,” I said, flipping through more images. “I guess something like this…”
At this point, Alan was convulsing. “You thought people were up in arms because they resembled gingerbread men on the scanner?”
Good point.
I hate it when he’s right.
As we walked home, just south of the National Zoo, we had to wait for a light to change at a crosswalk. We were standing there, chatting, when – all of a sudden – a loud robot voice said, “You may now cross the street. You may now cross the street.” Or something to that effect.
pithypants 