[ WP ] You 're at an airport , browsing reddit while you wait and decide to refresh the page . Suddenly , the alarms start screaming and you pick up your phone after dropping it from shock , you read the first story on the front page , `` terrorist threat reported at XX airport ''

I fucking hate the lines at security. 
 
 They tell you to get here two hours before your flight just so you can stand in line while everyone who “ appears to pose a potential threat ” gets groped and molested in the name of “ homeland security. ” This line was no different. I shifted my weight to my other leg, let out an impatient sigh, and looked on as operations appeared to be at a standstill. 
 
 I shift my glance from the flight information monitor to my refreshed browser; at least I can pass the time with reddit. 
 
 My eyes widen at the sight of the top trending story— ‘ terrorist threat reported at XX airport. ’ Immediately, I start looking around to see if I notice anyone out of the ordinary. By this, of course, I mean anyone who looks like Osama bin Laden. I ’ m not even sure why—it ’ s not like I could do anything apart from scream and create chaos. 
 
 The backpack on my left shoulder began to grow heavy. I moved it to my right shoulder and something felt…off. Panic ensued. My heart rate skyrocketed as I thought back to all the warnings about leaving your bag unattended. The sequence of events leading up to my arrival the airport flashed before my eyes: pulling up in the cab, searching for my purse in the backseat as the driver angrily retrieved my bags ( far too many, if I don ’ t say so myself ), the cab driver yelling at me about cash only -- -side note: those guys are dicks. Seriously, currency is currency. 
 
 When I stepped out of the cab, my bags unceremoniously strewn about the curb, the cab driver yelled what I assumed was some expletive and sped off. 
 
 And now I am here. With a bag that was out of my position for long enough in which to plant a bomb, scared out of my mind. 
 
 I can ’ t take it. I need to peak in my bag, just to make sure everything is the same in there. I open the zipper, ever so slightly, and gaze upon my belongings. My iPad, my toothbrush, phone charger, a few magazines ( Good Housekeeping, Cosmo, Field and Stream – the yoouzzh ), my laptop, and a small cylindrical, metal canister. 4:37…36…35… 
 
 Oh man. I ’ m fucked. 
 
 I let out a nervous laugh that is far too loud given the situation. The woman behind me stares at me puzzled and I skittishly held up my phone “ cat video..he hits the other cat in the face, that ’ s just cats for you. ” She seems to go back to minding her business. 
 
 Alarms start wailing; I need to slip out of this line. Undetected, unnoticed. I just need to act natural. 
 I have found in situations like this, no one cares about what you ’ re doing. I leave the line under the ropes and shuffle into the bathroom. 
 
 I start by slipping my coat off, wiping the potential DNA off my zipper as I stuff it into the backpack. I pull the backpack onto my shoulders and take toilet paper to wipe off my bright lipstick, in an effort to reduce my appearance even further. I pull my hair out of its braid and let it flow freely, as I notice a hat on top of a woman ’ s carryon in the stall next to me. I open the stall door to leave while simultaneously swooping down and taking the hat. I hear a “ HEY ” come from behind the door, but I ’ m already gone. Placing the hat on my head, I keep my eyes down and walk toward the exit doors. 
 
 I step outside and smell the fresh scent of freedom; being outside of the airport felt only slightly better, but there is still the issue of the bomb in my backpack to deal with. 
 
 I take off full speed, dodging behind bushes and cars. I stop around the corner of a car rental stand and slip off the backpack, fumbling for the device. 45…44... 43. omigod omigod omigod. I look around and spot a dumpster. I pull my laptop and ipad out of my backpack, wipe the zippers, and with the sleeve of my shirt open the enclosure. Tossing my backpack in, I slam the door and take off in the other direction. 
 
 As I spin around the corner, I am met by security guards waiting to detain me, who had in fact been chasing me out of the airports since I left without authorization. Of all of the countermeasures I gracefully employed, I seemed to have forgotten about the cameras which had taped everything. 
 Now, I ’ m in an interview room, and since I haven ’ t been arrested yet, I pulled out my phone. 
 
 r/TIFU ~~By looking in my backpack at an airport.~~ By taking a cab 
 
 I sit for hours in silence. As it turned out, my device was one of four that were intended for the airport. They traced the bombs back to Kenneth Graybeard, the cab driver which deposited me at the airport, along with the other unknowing victims. 
 
 I received a couple of citations for improperly disposing of a weapon, and obstruction of justice—I ’ m sure more are coming. Altogether, this is better than charges of domestic terrorism. 
 
 Needless to say, I missed my flight. 

