Seeing what a danger terrorism is to the flying public made me glad to see security was on the lookout for my safter one morning not so long ago. Keeping us safe. Several recent test attempts to smuggle fake bombs, guns aboard passenger planes were successful. Worrisome when you consider the aggravations the traveling public has.

Remembering this the other day at Tulsa International, I saw a sign that read, “If you are over 75 you don’t have to take your shoes off.” I thought, wow. About time they started giving us a break. I hate doing this and I made it through just fine. Returning home a few days later from Florida was a little different. The Nazi looking woman in the long line in front of me asked, “Do I have to take off my shoes?” “How old are you?” I’m 77,” she replied. “You can keep them on.” I left mine on too. “Git your shoes off,” the mean looking woman said, looking at me. I told her I was over 80. She looked me up and down. “Take off your shoes,” she commanded. I took ‘em off.

Another female officer strolled up and bellowed out “Remove all keys, loose change and lay it in the tray. Cell phones in the trays, laptops out of their cases and in the trays.” I was hopping around and trying to get my shoes off as I remembered I had a bunch of change in my pockets. The Nazilooking woman came and stood by me. Of course, I nervously dropped coins all over the floor. This caused a major calamity in the line as other people helped me pick it up. I got it all in that plastic tub but by now, my mind was shedding IQ points by the dozens. I wore a suit jacket and every pocket was full of stuff too and it too had gained the attention of the guards at the machine.

Finally, I was pretty well stripped of “stuff” and faced the guards. I felt suspicious. I might as well have put on a turban and shouted Allah Akbar. I was well searched -- twice. Then the wand person searched me again and frowned. Instead of being passed I was sent to the side and made to step into this X-Ray booth and raise my arms. “Raise your right arm higher, the female guard said in a loud voice.” I raised it as high as I could and when she said higher I told her I had surgery on my shoulder and that was as high as it goes. She reluctantly let me go. I gathered up my trays and found a bench to begin the long job of reassembling myself.

I was glad to be done with scans and looked anxiously around and saw that my “faithful” son, Steve had come back and was wondering aloud why I was so slow. His instructions had been to “look after your dad.” But he had been of no help. Out of sight. Busy on his phone. I finally got finished and was ready to go to my gate but I was one shoe short. I hobbled over to the dreaded line again and there was no sign of a black shoe. I suspected the guards had stolen it and I would be hobbling my way back to Allen. But finally I found my shoe way up in the X-Ray machine. I got it back. I think by now the shoe was glowing in the dark I know I was.

We were now directed to Gate 22 and took a seat and relaxed over a tiny and overpriced jug of orange juice and a roll. I soon heard my name on the PA system. It told me to report to Gate 4. At this gate a highly agitated Southwest Airline person told us to hurry -- and we did. We had been at the wrong gate. Our flight was completely loaded and the passengers who had been sitting there a bit gave me a harsh look before giving sarcastic applause. Don’t even ask me about our connection in Dallas to Tulsa. I could have walked it faster.

Have a great weekend and be sure and go to church Sunday and pray for the poor air travelers of America.

Wayne Bullard, DPh

waynebullard@gmail.com