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The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/Simple-Programmer-21 on 2024-10-24 09:19:34+00:00.
To those of you who might have wondered if it’s worthwhile to eat a bag of edibles before boarding a flight, my experience might make you think twice. I figured that if I popped a few “special” chocolates after arriving at the airport (but before going through security), I’d sink comfortably into my seat on the plane, have a great time watching a light hearted in-flight comedy movie, and painlessly arrive at my destination before I even knew it. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Instead, I ended up living my own version of the “I’m goin’ to Disney World” joke, making an incredible fool of myself in front of airport staff, and armed my wife with a story she loves to remind me of - she thinks it’s still just as hilarious as it was the day it happened.
My wife and I had wanted to visit Disneyland as adults for years - imagining how much fun many of the classic rides there would be after a couple beers, and otherwise really just taking the time to appreciate it all in a way we probably never could have when we were kids. Earlier this year, we finally took the chance to go, and booked our tickets - excited to take a real vacation, and escape to the fantasy world of a Disney park for a few days.
As the real genius I am, I figured I could only enhance the otherwise boring, uncomfortable and fairly long flight by eating a bunch of edibles once we got to the airport. I figured my timing was perfect - they wouldn’t start kicking in until after we had gotten through security, and they’d last until we arrive, and settled in at our hotel in Anaheim. Except even with my decent tolerance at the time, these particular edibles hit me like a truck, coming at me full-speed. Even after 20 minutes or so, I was already exploring space while in line at security - it took extra concentration to go through each step at the scanners, and even emptying my pockets into the tray on the x-ray conveyor belt was a real fuckin’ struggle.
By the time we settled into our seats by our gate, I knew I needed to find a way to shake it off. I (pretty abruptly, my wife told me later) stood up and let her know I needed to go for a walk by myself - I figured that would help keep me grounded, and focused on other things. I was also getting worried about being literally grounded - if the gate agents or any of the flight attendants figured out how absolutely blasted I was, they’d probably deny me boarding. After a few minutes, the walk was starting to help, and it was time I headed back to my gate - my boarding time was coming up, and I was going to have to hope I looked at least somewhat sober when getting on the plane.
Looking around the part of the airport I was in, I didn’t recognize anything around me. Glancing up to the sign above me, my stomach sank when it read “Baggage Claim and Taxi Pickup.” I had somehow gotten out of the departure area - I must have walked through one of those one-way gates you often go through at your destination, without even noticing. I was going to have to go back through security again, and I figured I was screwed. In my head, the TSA agent was going to know how baked I was, and they were going to tell the airline I can’t fly. As I was walking back to the security entrance, my sky-high brain was racing - jumping to the conclusion that I was about to ruin the entire trip by getting our flight cancelled, and my wife was going to be upset, disappointed, and let down. What if getting denied boarding was the last straw in a secret, long list of grievances? What if this event is the catalyst that leads to our marriage falling apart? What if that sends me spiraling into a depression that costs me my job, and I end up living alone in a cardboard box? Such are the thought paths of someone having an exceptionally bad time while absolutely schwacked.
I arrive back at the security checkpoint, only to seemingly have my fears confirmed. The TSA agent scanning boarding passes at the beginning of the line takes a look at me and says “Wait a minute, didn’t you already come through here? I swear I saw you like half an hour ago. What are you doing back here?”
In my state of panic, I try my hardest to come up with a casual, yet clear explanation to reply with - something a totally sober guy might say. I manage to muster up my best effort - while not even looking at the TSA agent (I thought I couldn’t let my eyes give myself away, after all!), I reply with a sentence of pure literary mastery.
“Uhhhh… I dunno.”
Except I didn’t even annunciate the words - I just shrugged my shoulders and sort of mumbled it, in a sing-song kind of way. And all while mostly either staring at the floor, or gazing off into the distance. She then pauses for a moment, says “Hmm, ok then,” and asks to see my boarding pass again. She takes a quick glance at it, and asks “Off to LA today?”
“No, Disneyland!” I replied cheerfully. I don’t know why I didn’t just say yes (I was going to LAX) - I guess I was trying to make conversation? Beats me, now that I’m looking back on it. Right then, the TSA woman looks at me as if she had just made a grand realization - and I figure I’m screwed. She’s on to me. But instead of asking me if I’ve had anything to drink, smoke, or if I was ok to fly, she completely changes her tone of voice. Now, in a happy, higher pitched but slower tone, says back to me “Ohhh how exciting! Well if you got lost, that’s ok! We can help you get back! Then once you get to Disneyland, you’ll get to have soooo much fun on all the rides!”
Meanwhile I’m standing there, obliviously thinking to myself “Yeah, I will have fun! Thanks, strangely friendly TSA lady!”
In her now extra well pronounced, basic words, she then asks if I have anyone waiting for me at the gate - like an assistant or something. The “assistant” question got me confused - is that some sort of policy-based question I had never heard before? I tell her a simple “No,” while probably still glaring at the wall or something. She then asks if I need any extra help at security, and tells me to “say hi to Micky for me!” Smiling, but still freaking out and slightly confused inside, I let out a simple “Thanks!” and go back through the scanner - I just had to get out of there as quickly as I could.
Now walking back towards my wife at the gate, it all hits me like a ton of bricks. The TSA agent thought I was another form of “incapacitated” entirely - someone who rode the short bus going to school, and is now on a field trip to Disneyland with support workers and aides. Now turning beat red, I sit back down beside my wife, and before she could say anything, I blurt out: “The entire security staff back there think I’m legitimately mentally handicapped.”
She still looks back on that as one of her favorite moments of our marriage so far. And as it happens, the flight itself wasn’t even any better on the edibles, either.
TL;DR: I took too many edibles at the airport before a flight, and somehow wandered out of the departures area. I had to go back through security again to get back to my gate, now worried that I’d be deemed too intoxicated to fly - only to instead have TSA think I was mentally handicapped and requiring special needs assistance.