Can you make an airport bomb from chocolate, iPod wire and port wine?
http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2008/01/11/notes011108.DTL&nl=fixPassing through the cute, harmless, relatively tiny Spokane airport on the way back to the goodly San Francisco bubble after spending a week and change up in the Pacific Northwest with the family for the holidays, entering the security checkpoint and of course doing my all-American duty and basically taking off all my clothes so as to help protect my country because, you know, it's Spokane. Islamo-fascist terrorists really hate Spokane.
Off came the jacket and the belt and the shoes and the jewelry and out came the laptop and into about five plastic bins went everything, all the while figuring I'd zip right through, given how careful I'd been in my carry-on packing, nothing to raise any alarms and nothing to cause any sort of delay, no liquids and no lotions and no Astroglide travel packs and this time I even had the foresight to remove the tiny 1-inch Leatherman Squirt from my keychain (my third one — I keep forgetting) because everyone knows how easy it would be to hijack a goddamn jetliner by, say, threatening to give the pilot a really awful pedicure with that badass 1-inch nail file.
Except, oh holy hell no, something's amiss, they need to inspect my bag, probably something weird showing up in the scanner with my camera gear or the various rechargeable battery packs or maybe the handmade candles I'd received as a gift or ... well, it's airport security. Who the hell knows what it could be.
And suddenly, I saw it. The port. Oh holy dammit, that's right. Last minute of my of packing, I'd switched the new, sealed 375-milliliter bottle of 16-year-old vintage port wine from my checked suitcase over to my carry-on due to concern for the former's overall weight, somehow completely blocking out the no-liquids thing and despite all my careful packing and awareness just prior. My hand went to my forehead, and slapped. Idiot. ...