I actually feel pity for the way he looks at me. I have just made his day a living hell and I really do feel sorry for him and for calling Jared a Brown Shirt.
"Let's just get through today," he says.
I agree to be searched and tell them I will read the Constitution in a normal voice while they do it. This is not good enough for Guy with a Tie. He says if I read the statement, I can't pay attention to what the frisking officer tells me. You know, how she is going to put her hands here and there and use the back of her hand to check my "sensitive areas". They tell me I need to listen to this, I kid you not, for my own safety. I say I will only read while she is not speaking. That won't do either, because I won't be concentrating on her instructions. Seriously, this was their rational explanation to me for continuing to violate my First and Fourth Amendment rights. I have to get home so I finally acquiesce.
Marty asks if I could be released and Jared lets me out. They give me back my shoes. Old Goat explains that I could await arraignment next Monday, or take the misdemeanor. I say I have already agreed to the misdemeanor.
"OK," he says, "then you need to wait 'til Monday." He leaves again.
"Wait a minute." I call after him, "I don't think I understood the options. Could you come back and explain them to me?" There is only silence. My heart is beating again. "I said I was taking the misdemeanor. Did I not understand what that was?" Monday is a week away. My job and my husband will kill me.
Jared comes to the rescue. He gets Old Goat to write up the misdemeanor charge and explains I have to appear before the judge here in New Mexico. That is going to be damned inconvenient, as I live in Northern California, but I agree.
Jared and Marty walk me back to security with Guy in a Tie. Jared asks, "What did you do in the Force?"
"Same thing I do now. I'm a doctor."
He snorts and looks at me. I know I'm not what he expected. Now, he can't help but think about all I've said. Is he drawing his own line in the sand? Maybe. It took me a while, too. I got here in stages, not all at once.
They walk me to the ticket booth. Three planes and I won't get home until midnight, but at least I am going home. Marty gives me his card and asks that I call him the next time I flying through Albuquerque. I agree. I have nothing to hide, I maintain that I have not done anything not guaranteed to me by the Constitution.
They search me and I am sore and exhausted. I am silent. They check my bags for explosives and my backpack alarms. The same pack ,with the same contents, I have had checked here multiple times with no problems, alarms today. I share this fun fact with Jared. He smiles and nods. They unpack it and examine everything but decide the 3 mm bamboo knitting needles aren't that dangerous.
Guy with a Tie wants to know if I was born in Arcata. I ask why I should give this information. He asks for my phone number. Again I ask if I am legally obligated to give it. He says that a TSA representative will want to follow up about the incident. I'd love to talk to customer service about today. I give my number.
He dances from foot to foot and hunches his shoulder. He won't look me in the eye for more than a microsecond.
I say, "I can tell by your body language you know more than you are telling me."
He gives me the deer in the headlights look and says "That's not my department."