Take as much time as you need," said a balding TSA bureaucrat as he patted the shoulder of a woman sitting in front of the X-ray machine, a thick training manual at her side. She squinted intently at the electronic box, scrutinizing each item that passed by for dangerous weaponry and life-threatening bottles of liquid larger than three ounces. Suitcases and purses inched forward at a painfully slow pace, halting on the conveyer belt for long stretches of time, and the growing line stared desperately at the being who controlled our passage to flight and freedom. I stood three inches from the person in front of me, clutching my boots, eyes bulging slightly as the minutes ticked by, barely suppressing the urge to yell "Come ON" as lines on either side of me whizzed through the metal detectors and... More >>>