Dear Rest-of-America: Stop Freaking Out At The TSA, You Divas. (or "Shut Up, I Have a Flight to Catch.")
This is a complex problem that lacks an easy solution. You freaking out at the airport — regardless of how violated you do or don’t feel — isn’t going to make anything better for anyone. Contact your congressional representatives! Do something that will actually make a difference. But whatever you do, do NOT mess with my holiday travel plans. I have an airport bar to get to, and when I get there, I will drink away the trauma of having my cock grabbed by an equally uncomfortable stranger, and then channel this fury into calls and letters forcing the elected officials I appointed to do their jobs into actually doing their jobs. For the moment, though, all of us — you, me, and TSA screeners — are going through variations of the same hell. Don’t make it worse.
