Pat Down

I wrote about dealing with Plantar Fasciitis several months ago.  My bout with the affliction began in July while playing golf.  I didn’t know what was wrong, I just knew something was.  I fumbled through the pain for several weeks, hoping it would just go away.  It didn’t.  I ended up purchasing some expensive shoe inserts that helped some, but the pain persisted.  When I arrived in Florida in October, I bit the bullet and went to a podiatrist.

The podiatrist gave me an injection that took away the pain for about four days, and then it was back.  I had a follow-up appointment ten days later, got a second injection that lasted a couple hours, and a referral for an orthotics evaluation.  I was examined and told I was the perfect candidate for a Richie Brace.

The Richie Brace is a custom ankle foot orthotic designed to treat chronic conditions of the foot and ankle. In addition to plantar fasciitis, I have flat feet.  The brace helps me with both conditions.

I’ve had it for several weeks and wear it when I’m playing golf or plan to do a lot of walking.  I wore it on our recent trip to California.  A few months ago, I learned seventy-five-year olds no longer have to remove their shoes when going through security, so I started telling the TSA agents I’m seventy-five.  I’m knocking on seventy-five’s door, so I have little remorse for my transgression.  I empty my pockets and jump through all the other hoops, so I don’t feel bad at all.

I have to go through the scanner because I have a pair of knee implants.  For some reason, my arthritic left shoulder typically calls for a “pat down”.  I’ve grown accustomed to the procedure.  I know the agents are just doing their jobs, so I let them pat away.

I went through the Orlando scanner without incident, however, once they noticed the brace, things got complicated.  The $#!& hit the fan.  I was pulled off to the side and asked if I could stand without the brace.  After replying to the affirmative, I took it off, and they swabbed it.  They placed the swab in a swab reader, and it spit out a report that indicated there was explosive residue on the brace.  My first thought was the brace manufacturer may also be a bomb maker.  In any case, that’s when the serious pat down began.

The agent let me know what was about to happen, ending his instructions with the statement, “If at any time you get uncomfortable, or want me to stop, just say so.”  That’s what he said.  What I heard was, “If at any time you get uncomfortable, or want me to stop, just say so. I’ll call for backup and we can do this the hard way.”   I wasn’t interested in learning about the alternative, so I didn’t speak a word and let the pat down begin.  He touched places I can’t reach and covered every square inch of my torso.  While he never dove inside my pants, he did two twirls around the inside of my waistband.  His actions drew a crowd of spectators.  I just stood and waited.

When the pat down ended, he placed the rubber gloves he wore in the swab reader and waited for a report to spit out.  Ultimately, they determined I could move on.  The experience lasted several minutes.

Once we made it inside the airport, I saw a TSA agent surveying the crowd.  I approached the agent, explained what had happened going through security, and was told that’s normal operating procedure.  I assumed it was, but wanted to know what set off the alarm, as I knew I wasn’t a bomb maker.  I wondered if my brace manufacturer might be.  The agent explained that some medications and lotions also set off the sensors.  That made sense, so I’m not turning my brace maker in for possible terrorist activities.

When we returned to Florida, I knew another scan would be required.  I decided to place my brace in a plastic bag for the return trip through California’s TSA in Orange County. I placed the bag on the belt, offered up my “I’m seventy-five” explanation, proceeded through the scanner, had my left shoulder patted down, and moved on without incident.  I put my brace on after I was cleared to move forward.  Problem solved.

In the future, I’ll follow the same procedure.  Please consider this forewarning should you find yourself in a similar predicament down the road.  And finally, if you are using a lotion that gives off the same DNA as explosives, consider a change.