Can Not

If I have to buy another can of deodorant in the next hundred years it’ll be too soon.

I’ve been on a plane you see.  A proper one.  With all its doors.  That I intended to land in.  No problems there but getting on the damn thing, now that’s a different story.

It’s these infernal security precautions. 

I arrived at the airport and already had a two-page list of the things I had forgotten.  I tapped my pocket every thirty seconds to make sure my passport hadn’t mysteriously vanished.  Some of my suitcase omissions would have to wait.  Others I could rectify.  I could do something about the potential of sweaty armpits: I nipped into chemist and bought a can of my usual body spray. 

I’m always a little anxious at security checks these days: thirteen hours of cross-examination by customs officials on the Isle of Man can play havoc with one’s nerves.  I might be emotionally scarred for life but at least I now understand why their cats have no tails.

After inevitably setting off the scanner alarm, it was the contents of my bag.

‘I’m sorry, sir, that’s too big.’
“I’m sorry.  What?”
‘You can’t take that on board.  It’s more than a hundred millilitres.’
“Is it?”
‘Yes, sir.  It’s a hundred and fifty.’
“But I just bought it.  Just there.”

I pointed at the shop ten metres from where we stood.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t bring it through.  It’s too big.’
“But I just bought it in your shop.”
‘Yes, sir.  I understand that, but still, I’m afraid you still can’t bring it through.’
“So why in God’s name do they sell it?  Do you think I’d nip in to buy my weekly groceries?  What other possible reason could there be for me to buy it here?  I bought lip balm too – do you want that as well?”

He looked at me at though I was the gayest man he had ever met.

‘You could check it.’
“What?”
‘Check it, sir.  Into the hold.’
“You’re not serious.”  Which of course was a ludicrous thing to say.  It was patently obvious that he had no sense of humour whatsoever.

“You’re suggesting I check in a single can of deodorant”
‘If you want to keep it, then, yes.’

Now, I’m no expert on homemade explosives but even with my schoolboy knowledge of TATP I know that in the time taken to hop over Europe, the most determined fanatic is unlikely to create the explosive equivalent of a safety match.  And besides, this security guard was only interested in one liquid.  Even my Nan knows you needed two.

“So you’ll want this too then?” pointing to my contact lens solution.
‘No, sir, that’s medical.’
“What?”
‘It’s medical.  It’s okay.’
“But it’s twice as big.”
‘Yes, sir.  Very impressive.’

A muscle in my eyelid twitched.

“So, let me get this straight: you won’t let me take the sealed metal canister on board but the plastic bottle with a removable cap is okay?  You think I would manufacture and spray paint my own noxious aerosol can or better still, buy an original, slice it open, replace the contents and invisibly weld it shut within sight of this security check rather than simply unscrew this one and pour in some nasty chemical?”

I waved it expansively under his moustached nose.

‘I can take that one off you too, if you’d like, sir.’

You just can’t talk to these people – the bit of their brain that deals with common sense has been scooped out and replaced with red tape.

“If I smell, it’ll be your fault” was the best parting shot I could muster.

Of course once through check-in there is another branch of the same chemist selling exactly the same range of products.  I buy the same can again, slamming my money on the counter so hard it made the display of Fisherman’s Friends topple over and muttering evil thoughts about the Revolution and what happens when it comes.

I fumed all the way to Berlin.

I was only there two days.  That’s eight squirts, give or take a little odour paranoia. 

When I tried to return the Bastards took that can off me too.  For Crying Out Loud.

‘But I have the receipt from Heathrow’ I cried pitifully as two ex-shot putters rifled through the personal possessions they’d tipped gleefully on to the counter.

I whimpered all the way back to London bereft again of any anti-perspirant, sweating gently and rocking ever so slightly.

As I waited for my delayed train back in Blighty, I crawled into the ubiquitous chemists and bought yet another can.  From a man whose moustache looked curiously familiar.  Although it seemed this one had something to smile about.  

Comments

[Ian]

You know the rule Reeve!

Bloody anarchists...

[Rih Bazellle]

Funny post. I too had an issue with my contact lens solution when flying to Florida last week.

[Richard]

heh heh - rather than see it wasted, maybe you should have sprayed it all over yourself in front of him - would probably have inhibited any B.O. for at least the duration of the trip, too.

[Carlton]

Richard, I like the idea of spraying the whole can to make sure I get my money's worth and make an appropriate statement at the same time.

I wonder how early I'd need to go to expend the whole cannister?

Did they actually stop you from taking it on board, Rih?

And you know what they say about Anarchist's rules, Ian!