Comments on: 10 awesome-tastic travel terms

By: The Everywhereist » Blog Archive » Superfluous Travel Item I Need (Kinda): Suitcase Stickers

Wed, 21 Jul 2010 22:58:09 +0000

[...] not that I think that TSA-holes can’t distinguish between two dimensional stickers and an actual tear in a suitcase that [...]

By: Geraldine

Geraldine — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 16:13:08 +0000

Jane,

Thank you so much for noting this phenomenon. We’ve often taken part in this sort of thing, and couldn’t figure out what to call it. I will be writing an article in the near future about how to take photos of crazy people without them knowing … I think I’ll have to call it “The Art of the Reverse Photobomb.”

By: Geraldine

Geraldine — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 16:09:41 +0000

Adrienne – A toddler is a walking threat to America. I have always maintained this.

By: Jane

Jane — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 09:38:28 +0000

I would like to add the reverse photobomb, where you get people to pose for a picture in front of something they don’t know is going on. They think you just want to take their photograph. Hilarity ensues.
Example:
http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs103.snc1/4888_604701321813_27207976_36290466_4306127_n.jpg

Of course, it would have been better if the couple in the background were still gratuitously making out, but it serves the purpose of example. I am going to embrace the reverse photobomb from now on.

By: Adrienne

Adrienne — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 09:02:43 +0000

TSA-hole! Yes! /virtual-high-five

I was once given the bonus inspection — you know, the one-on-one metal detector wand action? — while 5 months pregnant AND carrying a toddler. Who was also wanded.

BECAUSE WE WERE CLEARLY DANGEROUS TERRORISTS.

By: randfish

randfish — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 06:23:10 +0000

I went to Phoenix once. Was wished a non-voyage by some TSA-hole whose hospility was less than underwhelming. Landed, rented a car, found the street I was supposed to go down (behind a crap-stomped alley), but it turned into Canada (bad directions from some local who totally cochoned me). Finally parked, stepped out into what I thought would be nice weather, but it was hot as all hell; ess-effed up. Since I’d been crap-slapped by baby vomit on the flight over, I brewstered a new shirt, did some consulting, photo-bombed a couple on the way back to the airport and flew home.

Bob Rains wasn’t there, so no photo-Bobbing.