I am at the airport. I say to the Homeland Security official: ”I have a total hip replacement.  You want to check me?”

“You come with me, Sir.”

We walk all of three yards away, where a specially appointed official is waiting to inspect potential terrorists.  I reflect that they are fifty years out of date.  I probably terrorized my kids when they were little, but stopped.

“I am now going to pat you down, Sir.  Would you prefer to have me do this in private.”

“Not a bit of it.  I am happy for everyone to see their dollars at work.”

“Stand legs apart and arms out by your sides, please”.

“I would prefer a woman to be doing this.”

“I’m sorry, Sir, that is not possible.”

“What I had in mind was a blonde twenty-one year old with long, shapely legs”.

“You can only request a female searcher if you are in Key West”.

“How many people do you get with hip replacements every day?

“About two hundred.”

“And they are all patted down?”

“Yes, Sir, those are the orders.”

“Do you find many people over 70 who are signed up with al Queda?”

“I don’t make the rules, Sir.”
  
P.S:  I wrote this short report of a conversation a year ago as an aide memoire.  This week, passing through security before a flight, I discovered that the latest technology eliminates the physical pat-down.  Which cheerfully goes to prove that someone out there is thinking about the inappropriate and primeval idea of pat-downs by total strangers.  If one looks for improvements in life you can often find them.