Only when forced to wait in an endless TSA line was I informed of the cruel exception: unlike other airports, LAX asks travelers to arrive two hours (not one hour) prior to departure. That's twice the misery.
As the clock ticked, I was bumped to the head of the queue. All systems were go until I tried to walk through the detector. Was it my watch? No. Was it my ring? No. Was it my bobby pin?
No. In fact, final inspection proved that the King of Pop himself still wields power. I reluctantly unpinned him, placed him alone in the large bin, and awaited his return to me on the conveyor belt.
It was worth risking a missed flight to ensure I got the Michael we know and love back from the TSA.
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