In the excitement of arriving in Ann Arbor I forgot to mention a somewhat bizarre story from the trip out.
Ellery and I were going through security at Minneapolis, and there was a “sinking feeling in stomach” moment when the security folks decided to run my backpack through the x-ray a second time, asking “Is this your bag?”. I was pretty confused, as I’d actually emptied a ton of accreted crap out of it before we left, so it was quite a bit emptier, cleaner, and lighter than normal, but you don’t argue with these folks so I just smiled and tried to look as un-terroristic as possible.
There was then intent gazing at the screen (which I can’t see), and muttered conversations (which I can’t hear).
And now the dreaded question: “How many harmonicas do you have in your bag?”
Yeah. Harmonicas.
“Uh, 3 or maybe 4?”
“Is one of them kind of big?”
“Yeah, a double harmonica from France.”
“OK.”
At which point I’m free to take my bag, with it’s apparently surprisingly large number of harmonicas, and be on my way. (It’s also worth noting the leading nature of all their questions. If I really had something to hide, their questions would have made my job much easier.)
So it would seem that knitting needles are no longer the key threat when flying, but instead the risk we all face is from harmonica reed plates. Keep that in mind when you’re next traveling (or at a folk or blues festival, which are almost certainly highly suspect gatherings to begin with).
And since someone’s gonna ask, yes I do carry a few harmonicas in my backpack as part of my “standard kit” (notebook, some pens, etc.) I like playing the harmonica (although I wouldn’t claim to be good at it), and harmonicas are small, light, and easy to carry. So I carry a few “standard” 10 hole harmonicas in different keys along with my echo harp (which is by far my favorite).
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While I was fiddling with that I also ended up listening to “