If it’s Wednesday, I must be delayed in some generic airport, some generic place in this country. And it must be time to endure more stupidity, courtesy of the automatons from the TSA.

This actually happened to me about ten minutes ago:

I hand my ticket and drivers license to a security agent, who studiously examines them as if the secrets of the universe may be contained within, then, satisfied my license hasn’t expired and therefore I am not a threat to national security, she finally looks up and says, “Good morning sir, how are you today?”

“Fine, and you?”

“I’m doing OK, for a Monday.”

“Uhh, it’s Wednesday, isn’t it?”

Handing my documents back, she replies, “Well, yeah, for some people I guess it is, huh?”

Author: frenchy