Security

I wonder what would happen if you tried to carry this aboard an airplane? I'd wager that you would miss your flight. I forget exactly what it is , but I do know that it's a harmless device, some sort of audio relay/processor. But how could you prove that to an over-zealous TSA security guard? You'd hear dogs barking and the sinister snapping of latex gloves.

I know what the object below is. It's my Boss BR-8 Digital Recording Studio. If I ever forget what it is, all I need do is look at it. It's labelled in print that isn't as blurry as this pic:

I also know what will happen if you try to bring this object on-board an airliner as carry-on luggage.
In fall of 2002, I flew to Chicago to visit my brother. Due to illness, I hadn't been able to play guitar for nearly two years and I was thinking I'd start again while I was on vacation, so I brought my portable studio. I was quite aware of the post 9/11 airport hell, but I figured, what the heck, I'll just stand in line with everyone that has a laptop. My device is pretty much the same size and shape as a laptop and is in a laptop case. It's got writing on it that explains what it is.

I reached the checkpoint and unzipped my bag. The guards went silent , save for the quiet gasp of the middle-aged woman who was checking bags.

"What...is...that?" , she asked, drawing her hands back involuntarily, as if afraid to touch it.

"It's a portable recording studio. You use it to record music. See, you plug a microphone in here,
and an instrument here and record just like on a cassette deck."
I helpfully pointed to the inputs that were labeled "mic/vocal" and "guitar/bass".

"That..is not a tape deck"

"No, see, it uses computer discs, it has a Zip drive."
I may as well have said that it was a remote control device for piloting 757's.

The red-coated woman used her radio, requested assistance. She waved a burly male guard over. The man escorted me aside and opened my suitcase, checked the contents.
He examined my shoes and waved a wand over me. He didn't seem frightened of me, nor did he act mean or abusive.
He just seemed bored. I had dull luggage and my shoes were less than thrilling.

He then escorted me back to the checkpoint where there were a half-dozen TSA guards and -get this- a soldier in full uniform , complete with assault rifle. They were all looking at my BR-8, except the soldier, who was instructing me to stand back.

Hoo.Boy.

I was afraid of being marched off, searched and interrogated, possibly deported or even covertly executed. The rest of the passengers were looking at me with suspicion...why do they have that guy standing over there, under guard?, I could feel them wondering.

Suddenly I heard one of the guards speak up. It was a youngish black man with his hair in neatl- arranged cornrows and wearing a necktie. He , unlike the other TSA personnel, looked competent. He was my savior.

"Hey. I know what that is. I have one at home. It's for music."

Ohhhh....whewwww....Ok...went the other guards. They conferred briefly, the young kid nodding a few times, pointing at my device. The soldier beckoned me forward.

I made my flight with five minutes to spare.

My BR-8 hasn't worked properly since that day.