When it was my turn, I politely said that I would like to opt out. "Seriously?" the first TSA worker asked me with a raised eyebrow. Yes, seriously.
He directed me through the nearby metal detector (the one that would have been good enough if I'd just chosen another line) and motioned for me to wait for a pat-down agent: "Female opt-out!" A female agent led me to a table where she set my bags and then skeptically asked if I knew what the pat down involved. Yes, indeedy (thanks, Jeff Goldberg!) "Do you want to do this somewhere private?" No, thank you. The agent calmly explained what she was going to do before she performed each part of the procedure, and very briskly but thoroughly went through the pat-down. The whole thing was over in a matter of minutes and was a completely professional experience.
Or it was, until a male TSA agent walked behind us and hollered: "Hey, I thought she was mine! I was gonna do her!"
And that, buddy, is exactly why I'm opting out instead of standing in the see-through picture machine. Thanks for validating my choice.
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