We were once delayed at the Cancun airport by a full figured lady whose under-wire supporting garment had activated the warning buzzer on the metal detector portal. Our line at CUN paused to observe the 3 minute spectacle.
The Mexican TSA agent repeatedly waved the wand back and forth across her chest, beep, beeeeep, beeeeeeeeeeep, alternating over her boobs, in turn.
The Mexican TSA agent repeatedly waved the wand back and forth across her chest, beep, beeeeep, beeeeeeeeeeep, alternating over her boobs, in turn.
"Its my bra." she whispered to the agent.
Beeeep.
Beeeeeeep, beep.
"My BBBRRRRAAAH."
She was pronouncing the word very carefully as to make herself better understood.
She was pronouncing the word very carefully as to make herself better understood.
Beep, Beep. The screener looked slightly puzzled.
"Want me to take off my shirt?" Her frustration grew as did the volume of her speech.
Beeep, beeep, chirp, beep.
A little louder now, "I'll do it, swear to god!"
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Suddenly she crossed her arms low and grabbed the bottom of her Senor Frog Bar tee. She thought better of it and changed her tactics midstream. We stood transfixed behind the line ropes while the traveler did the bra off thing under her shirt. She quickly flipped the hooks in the back, drove her hand under each sleeve and reached up under the front of her tee shirt for a grand finale. Swoosh.
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"Everybody see?"
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