G’s Journal: PSA to the TSA

Gurjevan Bansal, Staff Writer|March 9, 2023

(Editor’s note: This is part of a recurring series of personal narratives by Gurjevan Bansal, a staff writer who will be sharing glimpses of her own unique life experiences. Any opinions expressed are not necessarily those of The Saber staff.)

“GET IN THE CAR!”

It’s Oct. 30, and I woke up to my dad yelling at everyone because we have a flight to catch. It’s like 5 a.m. The only thing going through my head is what kind of shoe I have to throw at his head, to get him to shut up. 

We get in the car by 9, and we are cramped. There are six suitcases, each the size of Godzilla. If he snapped his neck to form an uncomfortable handle, and decided to have children with King Kong. I’m telling you these were some beefy suitcases. It didn’t help that there were also six horizontally challenged people in one car. I took a glance at my sister who was seated on the side, and I really wanted to open the car door and push her out. Mainly due to the horrific screeching that was her “singing,” She sounded like one of those mountain goats that start to screech every time a camera is pointed at them. 

My dad told me I could bring books, and when I did, he had the audacity to yell at me, because of the weight of them. He also told me that nobody was bringing their phones, and then, everyone except me brought their phones. Did he say anything to them? No. Does he have double standards? Yes. 

Once we got onto the road, guess who forgot their insulin shots? You guessed it, my sweet, amazing, super talented father. It’s fine, though. Why? Because all my dad would have to do to retrieve them would be to travel across an entire ocean, hop a couple of borders and walk all the way home, to get them. Surprisingly, there is a huge distance between Punjab, India and South Carolina. Who would’ve thought? 

It was a long car ride to the airport, and I don’t even remember any of it because of  my long eternal rest in the “casket” (a.k.a. the car ride). Anyways, once we reached the airport we realized how heavy our carry-on bags were, because of the cinder block-weighing books I put into them, and then everyone’s mad at me. I’m sorry, someone didn’t want me to take my phone, so I decided to take some books. Maybe if someone hadn’t told me, “Yes, you can bring books,” then I wouldn’t have.

We arrived at the airport and went through the TSA. I hate TSA so much. I don’t understand why they have to be so rude. At least try to look happy. I was just standing, reading what to do  and minding my own business, and some lady was over here telling me, “Girl, don’t just stand there, pick up a container and help your dad.” Aww, I didn’t know Squidward found a new job, how cute. Maybe you should leave me alone or let me read the signs that y’all have put up for the literal purpose of knowing what to do. 

“If you have a watch on? Take it off.”

“If you have shoes on? Take them off.”

“If you have a jacket on? Take it off.”

I was ready to hop into one of the containers myself, and go through the machine, because they were asking me to do too much, and I was getting mildly infuriated. Note this, 30 different people are behind you and they’re acting like idiots, who have not seen the light of day. You don’t need to push others to get ahead, you’re going to the same place, like jeez.

The TSA is so nice that they decided to take my eczema medicine. Thank you TSA, I definitely put cocaine in my Cerave moisturizing cream and I was planning on snorting it later. 

After that, we boarded our first flight to New York City. Everyone was complaining about the carry on, so we bought a tote bag to separate my things. Mm…like always, they have to keep me separated. 

After that, we had the horrible, gut wrenching experience of a 15-hour flight to New Delhi. Nobody tells you that when you’re in an airplane for that long, that your legs get puffy and swollen. Also, sitting for that long makes your butt really irritated, but at least you get three meals and some fruit juices of your desire.

After that, guess what? We had a nine hour ride to Punjab, and at that point I felt like I had dropped my butt somewhere. 

Even if I did, it was too late to turn back and retrieve it. After all, we were 7,675 miles away, and you don’t see me wearing my underwear over all of my clothes, like Superman, so don’t even think about the possibility of traveling across the world, just to go retrieve my butt.