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They say they can't take it with you... so

  • They say they can't take it with you... so I had it bronzed.

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  • "It," was a fifty dollar bill and the bronzing add sufficient weight, not to mention TSA agents were always stopping me in line and asking, "are you really taking that with you?"

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  • "No, I'm just carrying it around the airport for fun," I once replied to a humorless TSA agent. "You need to check it or do a full-body search& rub down." Oh, a massage! Will you

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  • be charging extra for a facial mask?" I replied cheekly to the TSA agent. Obviously, he didnt find any humor in it. "Yes, that would be about 10 extra," He replied. 10 dollars! Tha

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  • t's a bargain!" I slipped a Hamilton in his pocket. Maybe this airport-security-spa wasn't so bad, I thought as the TSA agent rubbed lavender massage oil on my shoulders. For once,

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  • I was going to be lubed before they started the full cavity search. I liked my odds in that scenario. I leaned into my role. “We’re not doing roles. We’re doing our job,” the TSA a

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  • nswered testily. "Look, if you're going to do a cavity search on me, at least we can make it fun," I said, "You be the aliens and I'll be the little boy who tends the sheep." They

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  • huddled together to discuss my sheepish suggestion. Finally the ringleader approached me & replied (testily). "We've reconsidered. You said you had 3 bags full? We want them all!"

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  • I handed over all 3 bags, bleated a retreat, & spied from behind a fence as narcs surrounded the gang. 2 of the bags were ok, but the little boy down the lane was using, so HIS bag

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  • was underweight. Damn it, I was caught for sure. The narcs cornered me, and I bleated - The bag is worsted. They bought it. And that's how I pulled the wool for the last time.

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