My Lord, did I screw up this trip.

So I’m standing in a TSA line imported straight from EuroDisney in August, when suddenly on the fifth repetition the canned announcement about prohibited items sinks into my cranium. I blame the early morning departure time. It was 11 AM; who is up at that ungodly hour?

But eventually I hear the word “lighter” and realize that I’ve got one of those. A rather nice one, with sentimental value. Credit where credit is due, I got no argument when I surrendered the lighter (easily replaceable) and kept the case (the important part).

But then came the metal detector, and my repeatedly setting it off, and my subsequent wanding. Obviously, my travel skills have atrophied, because this is what I was still wearing: left pocket, pack of cigarettes in foil, aspirin container (scraps of foil left on rim); right pocket, unidentified something in my wallet, and back it went into the X-ray; shirt pocket, an errant dime; right hand, class ring; waistline, belt buckle and cell phone belt clip with metal clasp.

That was after I had cleared myself of all metal. Steve Austin would have gotten through easier than I did. But eventually I made it, less one lighter. Those of you who feel smokers deserve all the hassles they get may commence experiencing schadenfreude now.

Upon arrival at Dulles Gate B, I headed off to the smoking lounge for a last hit before the flight, where I found dozens of travellers who had passed through security while retaining their deadly incendiary objects, and who shared them freely with me. A flight attendent told me, between puffs, that they had to be careful because TSA raided the lounge from time to time and confiscated the lighters.

To which I commented, “All of these people have committed a felony by getting those lighters this far. If they were serious about the law, they’d come in here and do mass arrests.” It’s nice to see that even TSA acknowledges that their security is just for show.

Bonus points to me for not actually referring to the cost of my lighter as the Reid tax while at the checkpoint—although seeing as how I’m writing this from the plane, perhaps a few points should be stricken off.