Saturday was dawning as we were arriving at Los Angeles Airport.

I felt energized and excited to begin my journey to New York City.

But wait a New York minute…the Angry Birds took flight before I even stepped onto the plane.

We mounted the escalator to security and headed to the pre-approved TSA line.

Denied. Not happening today. We were funneled into the reject lane and slowly filed through with the masses.

An observation while waiting many minutes in the security line…why do most women move through security like they are strippers on stage?

Slowly, they take off their coats and sweaters, seductively revealing one shoulder at a time. They deliberately slip off their foot gear and purposely place one shoe or boot at a time into the white plastic bin. The belt is the next to be unleashed and then calculatingly they toss the item into the receptacle…just undress quickly and move the fuck along.

Finally, it is my turn to assume the position in the x-ray machine, hands above the head in a victory sign, denoting I am almost at the end of this heinous journey.

I step through to the other side, freedom at hand.

I am detained. The statuesque TSA agent tells me to step to the side. She informs me that she needs to examine my butt. Is this National Kardashian Day? Wow, do I quality for the Junk In The Trunk pageant?

I inquire and she said they is a problem and they need to examine my butt for a concealed weapon…I could be carrying. What, extra cellulite?! I just came through the x-ray machine. I thought my body was an open book.

She deliberately massages my cheeks and then runs what looks like third world toilet paper over my butt.

I told her all she will find is Golden Lab dog hair and while she is there can she run a lint brush over my tush. She did not appreciate my humor.

She then asks permission to swab my ankles. I am a captive audience and relent.

After it is determined that I am not concealing a weapon in my derriere I proceeded to collect my carry on which is nowhere in sight.

I am then summoned to the baggage check counter espionage table.

A potential weapon is located in my bag. I announce, “That is my Alexander McQueen knuckle bag. Let me take it out for you.”

“No, m’am step away from your luggage.”

They manhandle the contains, locate the accessory weapon and start to manipulate the bag, aggressively bending the protruding brass knuckles back and forth.

No less than three TSA agents are consulted. I calmly explain that the bag is not a danger to anyone and that the NY Times wrote an article on the absurdity of the commotion these bags cause at security…I had foolishly thought that this game had been played out.

Finally, a female TSA manager is called in. She approaches and scolds me for placing this item in carry on as I could potentially break the knuckles off in flight and do bodily harm.

Is she insane? I would never destroy one of my prized possessions and ruin a $2500 accessory.

She then informs me that she will allow me to take my McQueen along, but never bring this potential weapon in my carry on again.

Armed with my lethal bag and butt I finally depart the hellish security zone and make my way to the waiting area.

My husband quickly obtains a dry capp with three shots from Starbucks and I attempt to compose myself before boarding.

I am still on terra firma and have already experience way too much emotional turbulence. What the hell lies in wait for me on the plane…violent in flight turbulence and the usual cavalcade of insane fellow flyers?

I look up and a man approaches in uniform. I am in no mood for an airline representative to tell me my bag is too large for carry on. Step away from the aggravated traveler.

Hi Ho, it’s Lloyd Moulton, pilot for our Virgin America flight to NYC. He is kind, welcoming and extremely happy that we chose to fly Virgin. Being a skeptic, I do a quick 360, surveying the lounge for cameras or a familiar face from The Daily Show.

No, it’s just Lloyd being a reassuring and caring captain.

I inquire as to his general health and emotional state of mind. Lloyd assures me that he is good to go.

The native New Yorkers surrounding me are also initially skeptical and then quickly warm to Lloyd’s congeniality. The doubters have been converted.

We all board in a positive New York state of mind.

What a day and it is only 6:55 am on the west coast.

I experienced a turbulence free flight, the passenger sitting next to me on the plane was a Ray of sunshine (that is his name) and the plane landed 25 minutes early with an empty gate welcoming us with open arms.

What a day!