(I am getting in line at security in the airport. In front of me is a middle-aged lady reading the sign stating that the TSA does not allow any bottles of liquid larger than three ounces through security. Underneath the sign is a box of quart-sized plastic bags. She has a plastic bag in one hand and a large drink bottle in the other hand. I watch her look between the plastic bag and the large bottle. She puts the large bottle in the quart sized plastic bag so that over half of it is sticking out and puts the whole thing into her backpack. My travel instincts kick in and quickly walk to get ahead of her in the security line. Sure enough, as I am packing my stuff up outside of security I hear her screaming.)

Lady: “But it’s in the bag! It should be fine! I put it in the bag.”

TSA Agent: “Ma’am, it doesn’t work that way!”

Lady: “I PUT IT IN THE BAG!”

(Apparently in her mind a quart sized plastic bag makes a 16 ounce drink magically become less than three ounces!)

(My girlfriend is a flight attendant. One night while we are in bed she gets a call saying she has an hour to get to the airport to cover for someone. After her flight she calls me to let me know she made it okay.)

Girlfriend: “Hey, babe, just touched down.”

Me: “Glad that you made it safe. Where did you end up, anyway?”

Girlfriend: “Umm… Let me check the gift shop and get back to you on that.”

(I used to work part time as a customer service ambassador at an airport. As a part-time worker I didn’t have a work phone and didn’t receive all the staff mails but the important ones were supposed to be sent to my private email. For the past few weekends I’d started at 5.30am and this morning I arrived at 5.25am.)

Team Leader: “[My Name], why are you late?”

Me: “I’m not. I’m five minutes early.”

Team Leader: “As of this week we’re supposed to meet 10 minutes before we start and report to the supervisor.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I haven’t received any information about this.”

Team Leader: “Well, it was sent to all the employees to your work phones.”

Me: “I don’t have a work phone. I’m part time. And nothing was sent to my private email. So how was I to know?”

Team Leader: “I see, but why are you late?”

Me: “I didn’t know I was late!”

Team Leader: “Well, you should have known! I’m gonna have to write you up for this.”

(This kept happening over and over. Eventually I got tired of having to explain things I had no idea about so I quit.)

(I am working at the security checkpoint for staff to enter the baggage hold area. It’s right by one of the baggage claim carousels. Nearby is a large group of kids wearing identifier vests for a local charity camp. We tell them to wait right by us while they wait for their luggage to arrive. One curious kid can’t resist the opportunity to ask a few questions. My male coworker didn’t how to answer the little guy so it was up to the geek girl to answer everything.)

Kid: “Hey, what do you do?”

Me: “We protect the planes and baggage from bad guys.”

Kid: “Cool! Do you know Batman?”

Me: “Not personally. He lives in Gotham city. That’s a long way from here.”

Kid: *lists off a couple other superheroes and villains, and I correctly identify their locations* “So, how do you stop bad guys from getting in?”

Me: “By being bigger and meaner than those coming in.”

Kid: “But what if they drink a potion to become bigger?”

Me: “They would get their head stuck in the ceiling here.”

(I’m six foot and I can easily touch the low hanging ceiling.)

Kid: “But what if Voldemort returns?”

Me: “He would be in England so we would be pretty safe here.”

Kid: “You can’t know that! You must be prepared for anything!”

(That gets a chuckle from me and he turns to a friend, apparently done questioning me.)

Kid: “They don’t know Batman!”

(I was born in Singapore but grew up in Australia and became a citizen. I fly to Singapore for a holiday and I am getting my passport checked out. In Australia, you don’t require a departure stamp in your Australian passport; instead, it has a chip that gets scanned. I did not know this at the time.)

Me: *walks up to the booth* “Hello.”

Clerk #1: *says nothing and starts looking through my passport* “Where is your stamp?”

Me: “Sorry?”

Clerk #1: “Were you born here?”

Me: “Yes, but I—”

Clerk #1: “Then where is the departure stamp? You’re supposed to have a departure stamp”

Me: “… I don’t know?”

Clerk #1: “You’re Asian right? Why don’t you have a departure stamp in your passport?”

Me: “What does that have anything to do—”

Clerk #1: “Why is there no stamp?”

(At this point, another clerk walks over, looks at my passport and notices the problem.)

Clerk #2: “[Clerk #1], in Australia, they don’t have departure stamps. They just scan because there’s a chip.”

Clerk #1: “But she’s Asian! She’s supposed to have a departure stamp when she comes back to Singapore!”

Me: “But I’m from Australia! My passport is Australian! It’s blue, not red!”

Clerk #2: “She doesn’t NEED one! Just stamp her in and let her through!” *walks away*

(Clerk #1 groans and stamps my card and slams it on the counter without saying anything.)

Me: “Am I okay to go now?”

Clerk #1: *throws his hands up and snaps at me* “What more do you want me to do?!”

Me: *losing my patience and yelling* “Well you could’ve F****** TOLD ME you were F****** DONE!”