May 31, 2012
En route to Long Beach
As I'm going through security, you know -- taking all my clothes off, removing my shoes, emptying my pockets, taking a breathalyzer, trying not to lose track of my stuff, pulling out all the plastic bags and tiny bottles of liquid in a frenzy --
TSA Agent: So I see you've got a thing for chickens... [referring to my hen tattoo]
Me: Heh! Yes, I do.
TSA Agent: How many do you have?
Me: Just one.
TSA Agent: You know chickens get lonely...
Me: <laugh politely>
TSA Agent: [looking at me intensely] You know chickens get ... LONELY ...
Oh god. Did that really just happen?
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