Sitting, waiting to board my flight from San Francisco to Seattle for PAX Prime, I have already, once, forfeited my dignity to my overlord, Police State USA. Standing up to the man as much as might still allow me to fly, I opted-out of soaking up the X-rays that aren’t backscattered and having my naked body put on display for the highly trained elite that is the TSA. Opting-out, of course, subjects me to a mandatory pat-down. During the pat-down, I am granted the dignified courtesy of having my special places be patted down by the back of the agent’s hands; lucky me. Dignity sacrificed at the alter of homeland security, I was permitted to wait for my plane.
At least I sprung for the slightly more expensive, exit row and free booze seats: now I can drink until my dignity doesn’t matter.
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