The Full Feel in the Nation's Capital

Twelve days post-surgery and I've just been felt up. It was painless.

In Ottawa for the afternoon, I hit the extra-screening jackpot going through security.  Welcome to post-exploding-underpants travel.  After not setting off the detector alarm -- phew, I thought, dodged the magic wand and pat-down! -- I was pulled aside for a second screening.  As the naked scanners are backordered at Sears, it's the everything-short-of-a-cavity-search treatment for me.  No hot guys, this go-round; it's all about the twenty-something woman in ill-fitting navy polyester.

Canadian pat-downs are certainly more thorough than they used to be (though still less thorough than the American version).  I imagine those in-the-security-know believe it's more impersonal to feel the back of a hand on one's tits and ass than a palm, but it's all the same to me.  So round, so firm, so fully packed.  She blessed my boarding pass and I was gone, steri-strips and dignity largely intact.