Yes! I resisted, ended up in a tiny room with all my stuff on a table. Amazing what people are willing to put up with without protesting. Simply amazing!!
As futile as my efforts were, I made it a point to vigorously resist the intrusion. In my mind I pictured myself being the catalyst that would mobilize the whole airport into a frenzy of protestations and demands for change as we all banded together against the injustice. But it never happened. I always ended up with my crap all over the place.
Yes, I flew from Honolulu to San Francisco and back. When I noted to a TSA officer that the security requirements at one airport were much more stringent than at the other, he all but admitted the TSA arbitrarily changes the level of scrutiny and particular procedures. They KNOW that beyond certain basic measures (e.g. scanning luggage for bombs), the rest of the procedures are BS.
A few years ago, my wife and I were on an international flight, we landed at a layover in a foreign country (to remain nameless here), and had to change airplanes. As we were going through the extremely crowded terminal, the security staff was trying to hurry people along. An English-speaking security guard wasn't too pleased with the rate of speed at which our group was progressing, constantly saying, "Move along, keep moving, don't hold up the line!" I didn't notice immediately, but only in retrospect after the incident, but he was pushing his people (his countrymen) to hurry them along. As I passed him, he shoved me from behind and shouted to the crowd in general, "Hurry up!" I almost lost my entire cotton-picking mind. I turned on him, my face inches from his, and said to him in his language with complete fluency, "I'm not [insert his nationality here]!" I then switched to English, which I knew he understood because he had been speaking it seconds earlier, "Who do you think you are, pushing me?" He never uttered another word, he seemed more shocked and surprised that I knew his language than he did about my challenge to his percieved 'authority'. I did not, however, resort to the Ugly American stand-by, "I'm an American citizen, and I know my rights!" My wife, knowing me and wanting to avoid an altercation and avoid missing the flight, dragged me away. I did manage to maintain full-on stink-eye with him as long as he remained in vision, my tiny wife dragging my lanky form by one arm and my head twisted backward like an owl to glare at him the entire way.
How do you know I'm not one of the errorists? They've promised me 72 menopausal grandmothers, I'll have you know. I'm not missing out on my great reward for ANYTHING!
Well, my brother dearest just flew in. He said they tore his suitcases apart and he had vicodin in a pants pocket. Despite dogs sniffing and "experts" probing into everything he had, they managed to miss that.
My clever brother shoved a submarine sandwich in the suitcase and blamed the sniffing dogs on the sandwich.
I got onto a plane at Logan international with a pocket knife that I didn't realize was in my carry on. I was a bit freaked out and surprised that they didn't see it on their scanner.
Benedict Arnold 