Home from Detroit

You know, it would be my luck that when I took the new gig and started traveling again, that it would be to freakin’ Detroit.


Going through the TSA checkpoint the other day on the way back home I was asked questions before proceeding to the testicle shrinking machine:

“Mr. Matson, where are you going?”

“Mr. Matson, who do you work for?”

“Mr. Matson, how long were you in Detroit?”

“Mr. Matson, when did you buy the tickets?”

Wasn’t just my lucky day. Everyone was being subjected to this nonsense.

You know, when I was 10 or so I went from West Germany to West Berlin via the commie bloc. This felt EXACTLY the same.


Curious if any of my remaining two readers know of this new and interesting detail?