“I.D., please, before I can tag your luggage.”

It was five days after the Nigerian wanna-bomber set his pants on fire. We were traveling home from Christmas with the fam on Vancouver Island. Security at YVR was at Code Pat-Down-Grannies-and-Babies.

“Shoes, belts, laptops, creams and gels in a baggie, loose change, silver bangles, pacemakers and nose rings in the bins, please. Have your I.D. out to show the security officer.”

Get dressed for the second time that day. Make mental note to buy new socks.

“Zone four… zones one, two, three, and four may now board. Have your boarding pass and photo identification ready.”

Return to upright, replace to locked, stow beneath, shut down, disable wireless…

And finally, we are signed, sealed and settled in 12C and D. Time to put the passports away.

“Yes, I’d like the Pringles and a CC on ice, please. Is American Express okay?”

“May I see your I.D., please?”