Dude, what are you looking for....f*cking eggrolls?

Sometimes I wish I'd think of this sh*t when it comes to me.

But I digress.

I just returned from Disney World in Florida (Florida state motto: You WILL be old).  During my trip, I had the pleasure of going through multiple security checks at both the airport and the stupid f*cking theme parks.

There's a distinct difference in the two experiences.

Let me explain...

In the airport, I had to stand in line for 45 minutes while simultaneously trying to juggle my backpack , my two kids, my son's carry-on (which has toys and a bear in it), my shoes, my kids' shoes, and a small midget (also in my backpack).

My backpack was loaded with three days worth of food that my wife packed for the kids...obviously trying to prepare us for either a crash landing that would strand us on an island without a Starbucks, or simply trying to keep my kids quiet by stuffing food in their mouths for the three-hour flight.

On a side note, this is how my mom did it when I was a kid.  Which also explains my vast collection of Sears "Husky" pants.

After going through a full body scan, metal detector (where I once again triggered it with my aluminum penis implant (don't worry, eco-freaks...it's recyclable), and anal probe, an hour had passed.

Contrast this with my experience going through security at the amusement parks.

The amusement parks have a "Bag Line" at the entrance.

I was greeted angrily when I put my testicles on the table for examination, and was told that (and I quote), "We don't check those kinds of bags, sir."

Fine.

So I walk up, and put my backpack on the table to have the elderly man/fat woman/sad teenager security person open it up and perform the security check.

Not actual chopsticks.

1. Security person takes out a pair of chopsticks

2. Security person uses said chopsticks to look at the top two inches of the contents of a completely full backpack.

"You're all set."

Really?

Gee...I feel safe.

I mean, a terrorist would obviously sit his C4 plastic explosive RIGHT ON TOP of his Pepperidge Farms Goldfish Crackers...and be summarily busted with this kind of cracker-jack investigative work.

How comforting, sir, knowing that my family's safety is in your chopstick-laden hands.

Great.

Now I want Chinese food.

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