i was putting my bags on the conveyor belt and was about to walk through the metal detector when a guy cut in front of me.  he was wearing a starched blue shirt, wranglers, mirrored aviator glasses.  the security attendant stopped him before he went through the metal detector.  “sir,” the attendant said, “you’ll need to empty your pockets into a plastic tray before i can let you through.”

“aw, crap!”  the guy in aviators shoved me aside as he grabbed a plastic tray.  he wrenched his wallet and keys and change from his pockets, threw them into the plastic tray, and stalked through the metal detector.  it beeped.

“it’s my belt, isn’t it?”  he was wearing a gigantic oval belt buckle, engraved with his name? the budweiser logo? a cow?

“yes, sir, you’ll have to take it off.”

“jesus, what a crock!”  he took his belt off, slammed it into the tray, and went through the detector again.  it beeped.

“oh, so now i have to go over there, then?” he sneered, pointing over at a female attendant with a wand.

“yes, sir,” the attendant said, handing the guy his plastic tray full of metal and yelling to the female attendant.  “male! blue shirt! glasses!”

as the guy in aviators fumed his way over to get wanded, i walked through the detector, which didn’t beep.

“what a fucking asshole,” i muttered to the attendant.

he smiled.  “i know.”