Since I'd never flown pre-911 I wasn't all spoiled by short security lines and the freedom to keep your shoes on through security checkpoints but I DO remember a time when you could carry on a bottle of water or shampoo or personal lubricant; you know, in case you need to wash up and join the mile high club or something. Then someone tried to make a bomb with hair gel and all liquids were banned. More recently, the Department of Homeland Security got really brave again and began letting people bring 3 ounces of their favorite liquids on a plane.

A couple of months ago, when we flew to Florida I got all excited about my newfound freedom to carry on liquids and started checking which of my liquid treasures were under 3 ounces. My husband, however, misunderstood and packed a few things that were over the limit. At the first security checkpoint a guard had Dominic throw away a 4 and a half ounce bottle of lotion, which was WAY over the 3 ounce limit so we didn't complain but there was also a 3.14 ounce container of pomade that the nice security guard allowed Dominic to keep so long as he didn't blow up the plane with it. We were so relieved not to have to chuck the pricey pomade but then we tried to get it passed the mullet haired x-ray douche bag who took his job way too seriously. Mullet Man angrily stopped the conveyor belt, squinted his eyes fiercely and with all the authority vested in him interrogated Dominic about the 3.14 ounce of potential explosives. Dominic defended his transgression and pleaded to keep the over-sized tub of hair goo but Mullet Man said that if he let Dominic bring 3.14 ounces of pomade on the plane then he'd have to let terrorists carry on gallons of nitroglycerin and that wouldn't be fair to all the people who would die, so Dominic threw his pomade away.

When I flew to Albuquerque last week I was extra careful not to breach any liquid laws but I inadvertently brought with me a paring knife that had been left in my backpack. The funny thing is that I didn't even realize I had carried on this weapon of mass destruction until I got to Roswell. That means I carried it with me through all that high tech security -- the same technology that sniffed out a .14 ounce infraction!

I could not believe airport security failed to catch a dangerously sharp blade -- longer than the box cutters used in 911 -- but they got all huffy about a little pomade. I was so angry that on my return flight I decided to leave the knife in my bag just to see if they'd catch it. Guess what? They didn't! Lucky for everyone on the plane I'm not a terrorist. But what if I had been? What if?