Go figger: on Wednesday, I cleared security at Oakland Airport, on my way down to LAX for a speaking gig. When my jacket came out of the x-ray machine, a Fed security officer extracted my Colibri butane lighter. Oh dear, oh dear, she said, we can't have this. New regulations. No pressurized butane on the plane. We'll have to drain it of fuel before allowing you to proceed.
I protested: Just up that escalator, ten yards away, is a gift-shop that sells butane lighters.
Oh, no, that's not true, the TSA Fed said.
I guarantee you it is, I said, as her supervisor let all the gas out of my lighter.
So, I went up the escalator and bought a butane lighter, just like this one, with the name of the airport silk-screened on it, for $2.11.
I took it back down to the security checkpoint and showed it to the TSA supervisor.
Oh ho, he said, this is different — it has a smaller flame than your lighter.
So I flipped off the wind-shield, and cranked the little valve-control lever around counterclockwise, and then lit the lighter. A foot-long jet of flame shot out of it.
Well, he said, the TSA is still getting its act together — we'll harmonize our policies with the gift-shops later.
For the record, when I ran my jacket through the x-ray at LAX, the TSA guards there didn't say a thing.
