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In Nobody Needs This, a new series for The Journal, Emer McLysaght focuses her eagle eye on the trends, products and notions we can do without. It’s not all giving out, however. She’ll also be keeping up with what’s catching her attention, keeping people interested and, quite frankly, driving her mad.
THERE AREN’T A lot of causes that all eight-odd billion humans on the planet could enthusiastically get behind. Eradicating mosquitos, maybe? Solving world hunger? Going back to a time before accepting website cookies became an hourly nuisance?
I know what I’d pick (after doing away with the hunger, poverty and war, of course). I’d eliminate the person in front of me in an airport security queue.
The person in front of me in an airport security queue has been sent to try me. I pride myself on being a security lickarse. My coat is off. My liquids are conforming to whatever the liquid policy is deciding to do that day. I’m not wearing 18-hole Doc Marten boots. My eyes are keenly darting about, waiting for the next available slot to open up so I can fire my approved items into the tray and sail on through.
The person in front of me has managed to avoid reading any of the 73 eye-level signs beseeching them to remove hoodies, coats and scarves. They’ve missed the memo on taking off their belt – in fact, they’re wearing two belts around their waist and a third, secret belt around one ankle. The signs have clearly stated that all electronics can stay inside the passenger’s bag but the person in front of me has a Kindle and wants to engage in a needless exchange with a security staff member whose baseline state is already set at “simmering rage” (and who could blame them?).
And don’t get me started on the shoes. Either they’ve started taking them off, even though there’s no need, or they’ve left them on when clearly the soles could easily be packed with a kilo each of cocaine. Their pockets are laden with keys, phones, ball bearings, none of which have been removed prior to reaching the top of the queue. They’re trying to show their passport and boarding card to the staff member, who is begging, begging them to just remove one of the belts.
Behind them, I’m twitching. As if I’d wear a belt to an airport, like some kind of amateur. I try to remind myself that not everyone is a security lickarse and that I should grant the person in front of me some grace.
However, any goodwill I’ve managed to drum up quickly falls off a cliff as soon as we pass through the scanner (which they will set off three times, revealing a fourth belt). For it is there, on the other side, that they will begin The Dance of the Tray.
The Dance of the Tray begins right at the conveyor belt, and directly in front of any other passenger attempting to retrieve their belongings. It’s a dance that involves frantic head bobbing, weaving and pacing as the performer anxiously awaits their items, which haven’t even made it through the scanner yet. Nine times out of ten, their bag will be chosen for extra inspection, as they will have packed some nunchucks or three litres of lighter fluid for the journey. The Dance of the Tray concludes as the coats, scarves, shoes and belts are laboriously reapplied completely in the way of absolutely everyone else.
Now, I will concede that the airport security rules goalposts are always moving, and perhaps what we should be moving towards as a human race is a globally agreed system on whether or not the bloody laptop has to come out of the bag.
I think what we can all be in harmony about, though, is the practice of returning your tray to the correct spot once you’ve gathered all of your bits. Except, of course, if you’re the person in front of me, for the finale of The Dance of the Tray is to abandon multiple trays in the most inconvenient locations possible, before the final flourish of forgetting the passport in one of these trays and having to return to security in a panic. Brava! Encore! Don’t forget to wear a belt!
I have a 13-year-old cat who hates going to the vet so much that I avoid it completely. She recently developed a snotty nose (who knew cats can get snotty noses like toddlers?) and I discovered that there are mobile vets that will come to your home for non-emergency visits to reduce stress on both pets and owners. I used Dublin-based Vets at Home, but there are similar services around the country. It cost just a little more than a regular clinic visit and the cat doesn’t even know she was at the vets! She purred throughout, the little idiot.
This thread from r/asksscience which answered my question asking if mosquitos are actually good for anything at all (yes, apparently!). Honourable mention to r/TVTooHigh, which showcases and exposes TVs that are, well, too high – and of course, let’s not forget r/TVTooSmall.
Emer will be back next Friday morning with more recommendations.
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