Only Terrorists Have Good Hair
Washing 34 miles of hair requires a metric assload of shampoo. Detangling 34 miles of hair after washing it requires two metric assloads of conditioner. And a metric assload, though smaller than an imperial assload, is still a sizeable amount.
Why the hell am I writing about my hair-care regimen? Because it’s so goddamned important our government now regulates it lest the terrorists kill us all. You see, there’s been a death in my family, and in order to make the funeral on time I’ll have to fly, which puts me under the legal authority of the TSA, high-school graduates with complete legal authority to poke through my underwear, confiscate anything I have on a whim, and then tell me it’s a matter of national security. Of course, as an American citizen I have the right to challenge this, but if I do that they can make me miss my flight (and not get my ticket money refunded), and since I wouldn’t be there in the first place if I didn’t need to make the flight then for all practical purposes I have no rights where TSA is concerned.
Anyway, I have to pack my suitcase for the flight. To protect us from terrorism, TSA has decreed you can’t bring more than three ounces of shampoo and conditioner onto a plane. (By comparison, those little trial-size bottles you find in bins at drugstores are usually two-ounce bottles.) From the way the site’s written, I’m not sure if that’s three ounces each or three ounces combined.
I figure I’ll bring separate two-ounce bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and if TSA says those four ounces are over the limit I’ll keep the conditioner and sacrifice the shampoo. My significant other will have to pack his supplies separately because together, we’ll exceed the anti-terrorist shampoo safety limit.
I’m also bringing a new bar of soap, but I have to unwrap it first. Otherwise, a guard might read the label, notice that it’s “glycerine” soap and think “Holy Christ, if she adds nitro it’ll be a bomb!” I hope the soap’s translucency doesn’t make anyone suspicious.
No hair mousse for me, this trip. There’s probably a hair-mousse company somewhere selling their product in containers small enough to protect us from the jihadist hordes, but damned if I can find any for sale. I have an almost-empty can with maybe half an ounce left, but TSA would confiscate it anyway since it says “5 oz.” on the label.
You know something? Ten years ago I never would have written an essay about what toiletries I’m taking on a trip, because ten years ago such an essay would have been completely pointless narcissism rather than a sincere, straightforward description of government regulations affecting ordinary harmless citizens like me.