So I just got back from The Haven Conference, which was fabulous and I’ll tell you all about it in the the next few days. There were lots of great sponsors there and one of them, Fish Foam, was giving out toy yo-yo’s along with samples of their product.
Most women aren’t that into yo-yo’s, but I wanted one for Grant. My roommates gave me theirs to bring back for him too. I wanted several because he is notorious for getting them snarled into terrible knots and ruining them. Basically? I wanted a few spares.
I had 3 in my suitcase, which I checked.
When I got home, I opened up the suitcase to give Grant one of the three yo-yo’s. Sitting on top of everything was a notice that the TSA had searched my bag.
I wasn’t surprised they inspected the bag… I had won a set of Ryobi drill bits and had lots of weird things in there from the conference. I bet lots of Haven attendees had baggage filled with DIY swag and had it inspected on their way home.
I pawed through everything looking for the yo-yo’s. Two weren’t there anymore. I searched every nook and cranny. One yo-yo… not three.
You guys? The TSA stole my kid’s toys.
Perhaps they thought I had so many that I wouldn’t notice…? I bitched and moaned and posted my cranky status on Facebook. I tweeted it. And I reported it on the TSA’s website.
Is it a teeny, tiny little thing of no monetary value? Yes.
Is my world going to be affected by this crime? No.
Am I pissed off that someone whose job it is to keep us safe, is stealing yo-yo’s instead of making sure I don’t have explosives? Yep.
Is it the principle of the matter? Yep, yep, yep.
Does Grant care? Not a whit.
When I was finished with all my rants and reporting, I gave him the yo-yo:
Me: “Hey bud! Look what I brought you from my conference!”
Grant: (turned it over in his hands a few times…) “Thanks mom, but I’m not really any good at yo-yo’s.”
He handed it back to me and walked away.
Yo spelled backwards…? Oy!