That awkward moment when you walk through security at an airport

I’m currently sat in the departures lounge at Heathrow Terminal 3. It’ll be a couple of hours until I know which gate I need to be at so I’m taking the opportunity to do some more blog and getting tempted by the WHSmith Bookshop over my right shoulder and the myriad of eateries in front of me.

I don’t think 4:30 am ever felt so tolerable as it did this morning. I ate breakfast (craftily prepared the night before), drank coffee and showered. Then I turned off my second alarm, which probably woke up the people in the next room because it went off while I was in the shower and it took me a while to figure out what the noise was when I got out. So, in the incredibly unlikely even that you ever read this, I’m very sorry if the idiot in room 509’s alarm woke you up.

After that it was a quick check-out (left room key-card next to mountain of other room key-cards) and back on the bus to Terminal 5. £4.50 each way seems a bit steep, but I suppose it has to be better than walking. It turns out I could have spent a bit longer in bed because I got to the check-in desk a good fifteen minutes before it opened. So I sat. And waited. For about half an hour. Until it opened. Still, the staff were nice enough, and the lady on the desk told me that because I was clearly such a ‘rad dude’, I’d be able to take both my bags on as hand luggage. So much for my worries about one of the bags being overweight. It was only when I was about to go through security I realised I had a knife/fork/spoon camping thing in the bag I’d planned to check. Not quite so rad after all, and back to the desk for me. No queue though, which was a bonus.

I did the obligatory browse of everything in WHSmiths before buying a magazine, drank as much of my water as I could manage and threw the bottle and remaining water in the ‘liquids’ bin, because that’s how I roll.

The thought has just occurred to me that this bit of the blog might be quite interesting for anyone who’s never flown before, but everyone else is probably screaming ‘GET TO THE BIT WHERE THE POLICEMAN WITH THE MP5 GUNNED DOWN THE TERRORIST RIGHT BEFORE YOUR EYES’ .

I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, but if you read on you will learn of one lady’s nervous moments as a result of a potentially lethal everyday household item.

-NEWSFLASH- I’ve just been interrupted by a woman asking for help with a phone charger/travel adaptor scenario and she asked me if I knew how they work. I’ve never wished I’d paid more attention in Physics in my life.

And back to your regularly scheduled programming…

Security was fairly straightforward aside from basically unpacking my bag and pockets into one of those black tray things because of all the electrical devices I have with me. Not particularly great, because I imagine if anyone dishonest was kicking about I’d have just painted a great big target on my back. Then again, I’m now sat here typing this, so I’m hardly being subtle. But I was all nice and let people go in front of me and stuff. Besides, the girl just across from me is using a Mac, so she’s clearly target number one for the thieves.

After that came that terrifying moment when you walk through the metal detector and pray for two things:

1. Your nipple piercing doesn’t set it off.
2. While you were sleeping, no one secretly operated on you and fitted you with a Wolverine-style adamantium skeleton.

Or maybe that’s just me. Does anybody else find themselves wincing ever so slightly as they walk through?

I got through without event, and on the other side I set about re-packing my belongings. I looked up when I heard those heart-stopping words ‘who does this bag belong to?’ Apparently a woman had bought a lot of souvenirs, and matey wanted to find out where she’d been. After a brief rifle through her pack, he walked away for a little while and the woman was left telling her husband that it must have been the metal photo-frame which set it off. Makes sense to me, of course. Those 6×9″ photo frames are at the forefront of covert weapons technology. The reality, though, wasn’t much less ridiculous. It turns out that a small bar of soap is enough to worry a middle-aged woman into an early grave.

I thought I was going to have to stop there -numerous cheers-, but I found a plug here that actually works -numerous groans- so I’m going to carry on for a bit. I’m now guarding it with my life because it seems to be the only one anywhere that works and I’d quite like to have a fully-charged computer for the flight. Drinking all that water was a big mistake. I can see the old lady in the garish cardigan eyeing it up from here.