Okay, so I'm going through security on the way to go visit the DoL mother ship at Capital University.

And I noticed the guy at the x-ray machine sort of move his head forward, then shake his head, and then start to point. He called over another guy from TSA, and they both pointed and whispered to each other about what was on the screen.

I was thinking, jeez, some moron is trying to bring on some scissors. What an idiot. And aren't these rules stupid? Who cares about scissors?

Then, a bag comes out of the x-ray machine, and it's my laptop case. They ask, "Is this yours, sir?"

And my spider sense started to tingle a bit. At least, I think it was my spider sense. Isn't that where you urinate down your own pants leg? I'm pretty sure that's what spider sense is.

Because I remembered that I had left my pocket knife in my laptop case. I had been book review editor for Public Choice for quite a while, and occasionally I would use the knife to open boxes of books. When I moved from BR Editor to ROW Editor (that's "Rest of World", by the way, outside of Europe), I had slipped the knife in my laptop case.

And then carried it around for two weeks, never reaching down into the front pocket enough to notice it and take it out.

Here's the thing: this is not a small knife. It is not even a medium size knife. It is the John Holmes of pocket knives. Folded, it is nearly 7 inches long. The blade is six inches long, easy.

Anyway, by this time, TSA guys have their gloves on, and a group of about five of them are standing around the computer bag. One of them pulls out the knife, in its little sheath. "Damn! You were right!" the puller yells over his shoulder to the x-rayer.

At this point, I figure I am going to be on television that night, at least locally. "Moron tries to take sword onto plane; TSA vigilance saves lives. Moron killed with automatic gunfire." At a minimum, I expect some rude questions, a sginficant fine, and a delay long enough to miss my flight.

But the head TSA guy comes over to me, and explains (in a voice like you would speak to a child, but a child you liked), "Sir, you can't take this onto an airplane. It's against the rules."

I literally just stare at him, speechless. My spider sense, by this time, has started to make a pool around my left foot.

"Now, sir, you have some options. You can take this down and put it into your checked baggage, or you can mail it to yourself...."

I start yelling, and waving my arms as if surrounded by invisible flying bees. "Take it, throw it away, I don't want it, no, I don't want it!"

TSA guy just smiles and says, "Okay, sir, it will be destroyed. Please be careful next time."

Now, here are my questions:
1. WTF?
2. Why didn't they at least ask some questions?
3. Why wasn't I fined?
4. WTFingF?

Anyway, I made it to Columbus. Really great to see the guys from Econ at WVU, who came over to do some other work, and hung around for the talk and for dinner. (How scary is this picture? Russ...decaf, man, decaf). Great times.

(Thanks to Bob L, by the way, for posting the streaming version. I thought it said "screaming Munger" at first, and it struck me that was redundant...)