This Lady Learned The Hard Way To Not Go Through Airport Security With A Metal Butt Plug Up Your Arse

Plane Lands San Diego Airport

iStockphoto / SamAntonioPhotography

Going through security is probably my favorite activity to do while at any given airport. While that may sound strange, when you realize the only other activities are:

1. Waiting for your flight
2. Eating food that’s been marked up ~5,000%
3. Using bathrooms that smell like a diarrhea apocalypse just hit, you’ll realize the TSA screening isn’t so bad. Unless, of course, you have a metal butt plug up your ass like Redditor WILL_SEND_NUDES did.

I’m now happily in Singapore staying with my uncle for 10 days as planned, and this story happened (unlike so many TIFUs) earlier today for me, discounting the changes in timezone. Just to get this out of the way, I am a woman in my early 20s and I don’t travel very often. I don’t have that much money due to university / housing fees, so when I do travel, it’s a pretty big deal for me!

I live in New Zealand, and the town I live in doesn’t have an international airport. In fact, the airport where I live is insanely small, it has one building and no customs (only domestic travel from here, so no reason to). This means that I happily made it all the way to Auckland (the international airport) with my buttplug in.

Now, this is no cheap-ass butt plug. I really splashed out on this one. It’s made of steel and is incredibly cold if you don’t warm it up before you put it in. The best part? It’s battery powered, and vibrates on command of a small remote.

You may be asking yourself; “Why has /u/WILL_SEND_NUDES inserted a butt plug in and so easily forgotten about it? I’m calling bs!” Well, theres a perfectly reasonable answer, my skeptical friend. Usually when I wake up in the mornings I will have my own private sexy-time, which includes inserting (and usually removing) my expensive fucking buttplug.

Great, now that’s out of the way, the interesting part.

As I approached the front of the line to go through security screening, I shoved my hands in my pockets in search of anything metal, like my keys and wallet. I searched through all my pockets, eventually coming across a small plastic rectangle. Now this in itself was no issue, other than the fact that it was the remote for my buttplug. Hm, that’s odd, I must’ve accidentally put it in my- oh fuck. Realisation hit me like an abusive father.

My metal buttplug was still in my ass.

Two meters in front of me was a metal detector.

I couldn’t just stand right there in the queue and pull out my buttplug, could I? There were no toilets around, so I couldn’t just saunter off to one of those, and it was then I completely zoned.

I started sweating, I swear in my first day here in 34°-celsius-Singapore I haven’t sweat as much as I did just then. I started looking around and fucking panicked. People were moving closer to the front of the line and a Maori airport officer guy was stacking trays and the girl in front of me moved through the metal detector and everyone was suddenly watching me and the security guard tilted his head slightly and my carry-on was suddenly so heavy and- “Are you okay there miss?”

I can’t remember what I said exactly, but I must’ve looked like complete shit. I made up some story about feeling really unwell and the security guard that tilted her head – the one that asked if I was okay – clearly didn’t believe me. “Miss, I saw you a moment ago and you were completely fine, would you mind coming with me?”

This kinda strikes me as odd, looking back at it. Don’t people get nervous going through security anyway? Don’t people that are scared of flying suddenly get hit by a wave of nervousness when they realise they’re going to be on a plane? I mean, there are tonnes of viable reasons why I might have suddenly become distraught. I am not white, so I don’t know if that had anything to do with it, but I found myself in this weird security screening room soon after.

This lady drilled me as to where I was from, where I was going, who I would be staying with, where they were from, my connection to them, if I was stopping over or finishing my journey in Sydney… This went on for what seemed like forever when I started crying. I’m a pussy, whenever I get stressed, I cry. It’s something that is probably a form of defence mechanism, but it’s usually more harm than help.

In this case, it helped… I suppose :/

The lady instantly softened up, she came over to my side of the table and knelt down. She asked me, in the complete opposite tone of 10 seconds ago, what was really wrong. And through my puffy tear soaked cheeks, with snot dribbling out my nose, through heaped breaths and shaking hands (as you can tell I’m an incredibly attractive cryer) I told her. It went something like this – just imagine me starting every word 3 or 4 times before finishing it, stammering every syllable, and a gasping breath between each word.

“I-I-I (Heavy breath) L-L-Left my… (Sob) I PUT IT IN AND… (Heavy breath) F-F-Forgooooot (Sad face)”
“Forgot what, sweetie?”
“(Incredibly sad face) (Heavy breath) B-B-Buttpluuuug (SUPER sad face) (Extra tears)”

Her face I’ll never forget. She clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. She probably thought I was confessing to putting a bomb in my carry-on or something like that. Her face twisted from shock, to disgust, to a kind of forced understanding look. She directed my to one of those large toilets, the disabled ones, so I could “get rid of it”, which I did. They gave me a plastic bag to wrap it in, and actually let me keep it. Although it did have to go through the x-ray machine, which was fucking embarrassing, again.

The buttplug managed to go unnoticed all the way here, and for that, I am grateful – although I’m pretty sure I noticed the xray machine guys at Sydney’s transfer customs sniggering at my carry-on.

This was probably one of the most traumatising, stressful, and embarrassing experiences of my entire life. Sorry for the incredibly long read, but I just started writing this and got a on a roll, so. I hope you enjoyed my hellish fucking buttplug misadventure.

TL;DR (in beautiful Haiku form):

Blocked my pooper hole.
The security noticed
my panic attack.

To be fair, it could’ve been worse. You could’ve been arrested, probed, or, y’know…

Weirder shit has happened at the TSA.

[H/T Reddit]