Help! He Has Yogurt

(Source)

I should have put this in my Vilna Report, but for whatever reason it didn't come to me until now . . .

I think that the quality of customer service offered by major airlines and airports has gone down, while their demands from us have gone up.
Remember eating meals on a flight from Los Angeles to New York? True they weren't any good, but the option was there. Now? Nothing but a bag of peanuts and a stale smile from the stewardess . . .

So I bring my own food. It smells up my carry-on bag, and when I take it out the people next to me all know that I'm eating now . . . (Because I just had to think that a double garlic Polish sausage with chili was the best thing to bring on a flight). But I lived with my own food -after all I had a few Snapples to wash it down with. . .
But wait, things have changed once again.
First they tried to blow up planes with explosive shoes . . so we must now take off our shoes.
I take off my shoes . . . fine.
But now we can't bring liquid . . .
We'll we can bring liquids, but only if they're in bottles three ounces or smaller and 'in a single, quart-size, zip-top, clear plastic bag.'
Right, like I'll be splitting my bottle of Coke into shot glass sized cups.

Next the terrorists will come up with explosive hair, and we'll all have to have our hair cut in the airport before traveling. Hah!
At least I don't have long hair.

When I flew to Vilnius this year, I had three brand new, unopened yogurts. Yogurt, not soda . . .
The X-ray machine started blinking. An Alarm went off. A security officer walked over to my bag. Pausing for a second he reached into his coat pocket and produced a pair of white, elastic gloves. Snapping them first, he put them on his hands. I thought he was going to arrest me, or at least bite off my ear. Perhaps both . . . Only I wasn't sure what he would do for first -slam the 'cuffs on or go for my ear.

"Is this your bag?" he asked, pointing to the bag in front of me.
"Yes," I replied.
"Please open it."

My stomach churned, what had I done wrong . . . No guns, No bombs, No illegal substances . . . I didn't even have a bottle of water!

I slowly opened the bag. The man rummaged through its contents, passing the Chinese food triple rapped in tin foil -yet still somehow oozing sweet and sour sauce, passing my books, he b-lined to my yogurts.

"Are these yours?"

I thought of telling him that if the bag was mine, then the food must obviously also be mine . . . but opted to hold my tongue.

"Yes, they're mine . . . it's yogurt."
"Do you know that you can't bring liquids on the plane?"
"Yes, but this is yogurt."
"Yogurt is a gel. It must be disposed of."
"Uh . . . can I eat it here? Kosher yogurt isn't cheap you know."
"You can eat it . . . but you'll have to go to the back of the line and go through security again."

I glanced at the ever growing line that snaked behind me . . .

"In that case I won't eat them. Do you want one? They're new -I bought them this morning. I recommend the Strawberry one . . ."
"No."
"It's such a waste of good food . . ."

The look came back on his face -but this time I could tell that he would most definitely go for my ear first.
My yogurt was thrown out.
It was put in a single, quart-size, zip-top, clear plastic bag, and was thrown out, along with the plastic gloves.

Sigh.


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