Dear NSA Security Agent,
Let me explain.
I know this was some time ago, but perhaps you will recall our repartee. I approached, travel-weary; halfway through my international journey, luggage already routed incorrectly, turbulence that helped restore my faith, and more standing and waiting logged than can be medically appropriate.
You pulled me out of line for a pat-down search. Of course. My twitching eyes and overall hostile posture made me an excellent candidate. I only wish I could have checked my sarcasm along with my lost luggage.
“Anything sharp on your person?” You asked, routinely.
“Just. My. Wit.” I answered through my clenched teeth.
So, I would like to thank you, from the bottom of my poor-decision-making heart for neither arresting me nor submitting me for a cavity search. Your eye-roll, might I add, was impeccable.