Sikh and ye shall find?

"Bet you $5 that guy's going into the pressurized air booth."

That's what me, the traveler, and the selfless individual with me (who not only took me to the airport at 4 a.m. but waited with me right up to the security gate) wanted to wager as we spotted a man in Sikh headgear right ahead of me. But we didn't want to end up with our own all-expenses-paid trip to the lovely beaches of Guantanamo.

And sure enough, they did.

And minutes later I saw the gentleman with his suitcase and its contents condoned off in the special-attention area.

He did make it to the plane, however, because I sat near him. As I dozed, I heard him talk about his life to a fellow passenger.
- Owned his own business
- Employed dozens of people
- Owned his own house (despite being a ridiculously young age)
- First vacation in years
- Talked about morals (not jihad-related, by the way) and social responsibliity

Portrait of an evildoer indeed.

Meanwhile, I arrived at my destination and realized the true threat to safety on that flight had been me. Although I'd publicly disclosed the one Ziplock baggie of toileties I knew about and had packed specifically for this trip, stashed in various pockets and crevasses of my bag were at least five others from previous trips I'd forgotten to unpack. Hotel shampoos and lotions. Trial-sized goodies from Target. Enough to pour together into a potent and deadly...body spray.

The moral of the story for summer air travel: Non-Western religious/cultural headgear: bad. Cucumber melon spritz: good.