Me And My Big Mouth

It's not uncommon for my mouth to get me in trouble, and such was the case -- in more than one way -- upon leaving Richmond Sunday.

Because I'm a cheapass, I like to buy some everyday items when I'm away from New York, things I can get at lower prices. Remember my story about Louisville two weeks ago? How I bought toothpaste and crammed it into my carry-on, only to have it confiscated?

Well, remember, I work in news, and I remember editing a story or two last week about relaxed TSA carry-on restrictions. So I figure I can buy two more tubes of toothpaste, as long as I pack them in a clear plastic bag, right?

Wrong.

The girl asked if I had any liquids, creams, gels, etc., as I'm adding my bag to the conveyer belt.

"Why yes, I do have some toothpaste in my bag," I said confidently, thinking I was playing by the rules and therefore immune to another confiscation.

The gal had me take it out, then run the bag through, and as it did, she took the clear plastic bag over to her supervisor, someone who clearly had been out of high school for at least three years, so I felt very comfortable, but of course, he thought it wasn't his place to improvise and took away my Crest with baking soda and whitening power. The tube of toothpaste was 8.2 ounces, far more than what was allowed in a carry-on bag.

Which brings me to this point: In case you don't already know this, our government knows there's no threat that an airline passenger will pack a bomb or a weapon in ChapStick, Carmex or even Astroglide. But the federal agencies who make the rules surmised that gullible Americans will feel safer if some new wrinkle, any new wrinkle, was added to the procedures at our fine airports.

I must say that I don't feel any less safe at airports or on airplanes since 9/11, but I don't feel more safe either, and stealing a $3 tube of toothpaste from me or the person in front of me is never going to change that.