For the first time ever, airport security inspected and violated my mouse. Well it’s a first for me anyway. Mouse inspections may be routine for airport security. At least that was the way they acted. While going through security in Frankfurt I waited on the other side of the x-ray conveyer. Before my laptop bag appeared through the other end, the conveyer stopped. I assumed that it wasn’t anything I was bringing in; I just went through security only two hours ago. The reason I made two trips through security is because of the way Frankfurt is set up.
I showed up to my gate about three hours too early thinking that there would be some kind of place to eat. In Frankfurt that is just not so. I guess in order to speed up the security process they broke up the check points into sections matching the different groups of gates. So to get from gates that start with C you have to go back through security to get to the restaurants and duty free shops.
Anyway, the conveyer stopped and I stood there with some angry old lady waiting for our plastic tubs of clothing and stuff to make its way through the x-ray device. My laptop bag was pulled off the conveyer and, well, treated like it held a bomb. The angry lady started to remove her items from the plastic boxes in a way that left no doubt that she was, well angry. Maybe it was all because of my T-Shirt. I was wearing an Angry Bird shirt that says “I am da-bomb”, with my favorite bird on the front, the black one that blows up. I will have to translate “I am da-bomb” into German and see what pissed her off. After all the rattling and slamming was over the nice security lady asked if I would help her inspect my laptop bag. “Sure”, I said. Nothing to see here, move along, move along…
I opened zippers and pouches and she pawed around for a while. She looked puzzled as she kept glancing back from my bag to the monitor that showed the x-ray picture of my laptop bag. At last I reached into a black on black pocket that she didn’t notice and pulled out my blue, Bluetooth mouse. I definitely saw a “Eureka!” moment in her expression. She called over her supervisor. He put on some rubber gloves and took the mouse from my hand and asked me to follow him. We walked through the passport/ticket check and went to his office which was. He asked me to wait outside of his office. He took my little blue mouse into the “back room” where I supposed he interrogated the little thing.
To tell you the truth I have no idea what he did to my mouse. It took about five minutes; I did sneak a peek into his office, and inside there was an interesting machine and a computer, plus one single metal chair. I supposed the machine was a specially designed mouse interrogation chamber, probably full of virtual cats. The security guy handed my little blue mouse back to me and I promptly put it away in its little pocket in my bag. They probably checked it for explosive residue, or fleas. All I know is that my mouse doesn’t smell the same. Then it dawned on me why I wasn’t irked at the violation of my mouse’s dignity. I never took my shoes off the whole time. I didn’t even notice that no one else took their shoes off either.
When did security stop having people take off their shoes? It must have been with in the last few weeks, I went to Spain about a month ago and remembered everyone taking their shoes off and putting them into tubs to be x-rayed. Did the TSA suddenly come to the conclusion that shoe bombers are unlikely, or did they obtain some new information? This made me wonder about the logic of violating my mouse. Did I miss some dumbass terrorist try to light an explosive mouse and fail? Or did the FBI uncover a plot to use computer mice in a terrorist attack to blow up a plane? Maybe they were caught planning to use the old ‘flush the explosive mouse down the toilet’ trick. I seem to remember that from Get Smart, or was it The Pink Panther?
I believe that it was I that used that trick in High School during lunch hour in the cafeteria toilet. It’s no wonder they violated my mouse, I have a record of this kind of behavior.