You may recall (or wish you could forget) my story about my misadventures at the Long Beach airport ( see TSA Yay! ) where I took on TSA agents fully expecting to land myself in a jail never to be seen from or heard from again (please stop rooting for this to happen; I get the point).

Well, only a few months later, and at the same airport, I struck again.

My very tolerant wife was heading out of town to visit a friend. She should’ve taken a taxi, but apparently has yet to learn.

When we enter the airport, she tries to scan her phone to get her bag checked. It doesn’t appear to be working. A handy-dandy (and very nice) TSA agent comes up to help her. He thinks it’s the kiosk, takes her to another. Nothing is working. I’m being as useful as I can, meaning I’m just standing around like an idiot (in other words, my normal state of being).

And then she realizes – She is trying to scan her YMCA card.

Yes, I did the YMCA dance in the bag-drop line of an airport with a TSA agent.

No, I am NOT sure if my wife will return. And who would blame her???