“The bag opens up more? Oh, no. That’s not allowed.”
It’s summer in Charleston, SC, and my friend and I are in line to go see one of my favorite comedians. We have been waiting in 100° heat and 1000% humidity for so long that my hair should be condemned.
I don’t want to miss one second of the show, so I read the convention center’s rules beforehand. According to their webpage, I am allowed to bring a small purse/clutch no larger than 9”x 5”. The one I brought is my go-to event bag. It meets all of the regulations and even has a section that unzips for more space to fit $350 worth of crap I don’t need but purchase because - event fever! At every security checkpoint, I put the bag into the box, we share a chuckle at the awesomeness of it, and I sashay in. At least, until today.
As an avid rule follower, I assume that I am in the wrong when called out, and would usually slink back to the car to hide the anathema. But the woman checking bags had just allowed a much larger bag through, so I push back a little. “This is small enough - it fits in the box.” She puffs out her chest - as if to intimidate me with polyester - and announces she knows the bag can unzip to be a little bit bigger, and she “can’t just unsee it”. I’m waiting for a “just kidding!” that never comes.
I open my verboten clutch to show her that I have nothing banned or dangerous in it - which seems to inflame her. “Ma’am, you’re going to need to get rid of that bag if you want to come in” as if I’m attempting to smuggle a mongoose and a case of 4 Loko instead of a wallet and lipstick. Isn’t her job to ensure I’m not bringing something dangerous INTO the show?
I wanted to ask if she was part of the opening act - but there was something about the way she wore her fanny pack that told me I should keep my smart remarks to myself. My clutch is purse non grata, yet Brenda the bag whisperer just waltzes through security with a tote big enough to smuggle in a toddler?
What is it with people who have a little bit of “authority” that makes them act as if they’re auditioning to be a bounty hunter? To be clear, I’m not talking about actual authority figures and the rules they are hired to enforce. They should be respected. I’m talking about the ones that volunteer for jobs that require zero qualifications or training. Armed with an orange vest and the Mission Impossible theme song playing on repeat in their head, they shut down any activity they consider wrong, as they believe themselves to be the last line of defense between you and total anarchy.
For example, the stay-at-home mom who takes volunteering for playground duty way too seriously. One such Quantico-wannabe marched my daughter up to me at the kindergarten pick-up line. She waved her laminated badge in my face like she was Secret Service, and loudly announced that my 5 year old was “busted” for “throwing rocks”. Upon further interrogation by the Rent-A-Bitter-Mom, my cherub confessed that she was throwing “dirt bombs” at trees in the back of the playground because “they explode all awesome”. A simple “please don’t throw things, you could hurt people” would have ended that behavior. And, admittedly, watching dirt bombs explode is pretty cool. Plus, isn’t her job to help if a kid falls and scrapes a knee - not to shine a light in their tiny faces to see if they crack under the pressure of questioning?
As a side note, later that school year, the same recess authoritarian pulled me into a “conference” at the picnic table to tell me my daughter was disturbing the peace by singing outside at recess. And because I’m me, I responded with “Thank you for shutting that down. As we all know, singing leads to a life of crime. Clearly she has terrible parents.”
Fun police are everywhere. A neighbor once called security on me because my daughters were swimming with a rock on a paddle board, pretending it was a turtle that they were trying to “help it find its mommy”. She complained that I was “allowing my children to destroy the habitat”. The security guards were shocked the woman raised such a stink about a rock that was having what was likely the best time of its sedimentary life. All the while she’s entering in her latest spiral Community Vigilance notebook “Intercepted another potential wildlife trafficker today. Petrified nature is safer now because of me.”
My friend and I hike the walk of shame back to some random grassy knoll they must lease from the city for the delinquents like me to park in, so I don’t tag a Ferrari or deal drugs or something equally deleterious after the 3pm show. We make it into the show without missing much of the opening act - which turns out not to be the security/covert CIA spook (good thing I didn’t ask). Perhaps something told her I might try to smuggle Nate Bargatze home with me? And, she is correct. I would have, had I been able to take that bag in - after I unzipped the sides, of course.
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Tracy Winslow is the owner of the winner of the 2025 Best of Bluffton Community Choice awards for the BEST YARN STORE IN THE LOW COUNTRY - LOW COUNTRY SHRIMP AND KNITS! When Tracy isn’t plotting to smuggle famous comedians home in a purse, she is a professor at Montclair State University, humor writer, and typically found cleaning up after her ridiculous dogs. See more of her personality on Low Country Shrimp and Knits’ webpage: shrimpandknits.com