I’ve been boycotting flying with my bicycle for quite some time.  The exorbitant $300 round trip fees has had me looking for alternative measures.

This weekend on my way up north (and for us South Texans, north is anywhere north Falfurrias, the US Border Control checkpoint 70 miles north of the border).. I decided to fly.  The bicycle had to come along, but via Greyhound bus, for a cool $40.  Since the bike pump couldn’t fit comfortably in the crammed box, I decided to take it as a carry-on– big mistake!

Everyone was amused with the bike pump until I arrived at the TSA checkpoint.  I was grilled as to why I was traveling with a bike pump, given that I wasn’t traveling with a bike.  I offered them 300 different reasons, but then they got confused as to why I didn’t check it as baggage.  I explained the economics of checking in a $30 pump for $30.  I *thought* they understood, but then there was some mumbling and hand waving, until the manager came to inspect the bike pump.  There was a quick shake of the head, and I was told that it was a big metallic object.  I tried to explain that it was really a hard plastic covered in metallic paint, but the TSA agent was unimpressed with my high school grasp of materials and chemistry.

I asked if they could keep it while my wife came to pick it up, but I was denied (in my defense, this has worked before).  The TSA agent kindly pointed me to the Department of Aviation office, where she suggested I drop off the pump for someone to pick up.

The Department of Aviation attendant, on the other hand, informed me that he couldn’t take the pump because of liability.  I asked if there was any other way, to which the agent responded… “I can’t take it per se, but if you give it to a TSA agent, they can bring it back as a lost-and-found object, and I can take it from them.”.  I breathed deeply, closed my eyes, and asked… “ok, you want me to `lose’ the pump in front of the agent so they can take it to lost-and-found which is in your office, and *then* my wife can pick it up from you?”.

“Exactly!”.

Unable to indulge this stupidity I went back to the ticketing agent who told me she would have to charge me $30 to check-in my $30 pump. I kindly declined, but after listening to my sob story, she offered to keep the pump if someone could pick it up within the hour.  At this point, I called my wife…

[I’d like to take a brief pause from this this account to explain that the Spanish phrase for air pump is “bomba de aire”.  For those with either insufficient imagination or mono-linguistic limitations, the exact phrase can be (incorrectly) translated as “air bomb”.  You can probably guess where this is going.]

As luck with have it, a TSA agent was passing right by the ticketing counter while I was on the phone with Yano.  In no time flat, after I was done explaining to Yano to come pick up the “air bomb” I wasn’t allowed to pass through security, the TSA agent tapped me on the shoulder, and sternly said “please follow me…”.

Yup… full cavity search once again, and I wasn’t even sporting a beard this time.

Man, I’m going to miss these intimate encounters when I move up north.