That doesn't change the fact that I am not Charles Lindbergh, nor am I a pilot or a plane owner, which means I got to have a fun old pat down after going through the full body scanner. And, ok, I will take some responsibility for this.
See, I had to drive a rented car 2 hours to get to the airport (did you know they charge HUGE drop off fees if you rent it going one way and for only one day? Jerks.) and it is, of course, my right knee that is my worst knee. So before I left I put on my semi-immobilizer to help with the discomfort of the drive. If I had been thinking clearly I would have thought about the fact that it has metal in it. And that the fashionable straight leg jeans of today don't exactly roll up very well. And that I was going through AIRPORT SECURITY where they get a little particular about long, thin, sharp looking pieces of metal apparently hidden on your body. My bad.
My wrist brace set it off too, but that I could easily take off to show them I wasn't hiding Ninja throwing stars (like I'm trustworthy enough to be given Ninja throwing stars) inside it. But, damned if I couldn't get my pant leg up to show them that, no really, I'm not planning to kill the pilot, I'm just trying to not fall sideways when I walk.
The woman was super understanding, though, about the fact that even if I had put those pieces of metal in there to try and kill the pilot, I wasn't going to be getting to them without first removing my pants which, it has always been my personal experience, they frown on in the cabin. Even if the fasten seatbelt sign is off.
No sense of humor, that TSA and Air Marshalls.