Traveling 101: Sex Toys Are Subject to Search
“Is there a reason you havetwoten-inch dildos in your carry-on?” the TSA agent asks, holding one up with his gloved hand as if it’s evidence of a crime.
My cheeks flush as several travelers whip their heads in my direction, judgment screaming from their expressions. It doesn’t help that the agent dumped the bag of toys I meticulously packed into a pile next to my suitcase, adding to my public humiliation.
Two nuns who’ve just passed the security checkpoint look at me as if they want to douse me in holy water, and a mother shields her toddler from view while she waits for her bag to be checked.
I don’t blame them.
My luggage holds the full holiday collection from Twisted Temptations—the biggest online adult shop in the country. With glittery dildos, vibrators, and candy cane-striped butt plugs, one might assume I’m off to an X-rated party at the North Pole instead of a solo Christmas trip in Arizona.
The agent clears his throat when I don’t respond. “Well?”
“Uh… they’re for work,” I say with the most innocent smile I can muster.
Anything to speed this interrogation along before someone decides to livestream and I’m trending on TikTok as #GlitterDildoGirl.
The agent arches a brow. “I see. And what kind of work is that?”
I blush, realizing too late that my answer likely led him to assume I’m a stripper—or a professional for hire.If only I were that coordinated.
I clear my throat. Something tells me he’s not interested in the full story, so I settle on, “I host a podcast.”
“And that explains why you’re traveling with all these devices, how?” He gestures to a Christmas-tree-shaped wand that’s just started buzzing on the counter.
“Brands sponsor my show, and I like to try the products beforehand. I’d never recommend anything to my subscribers that I wouldn’t use myself. Especially not with a sparkly battery-operated device that goes in—” I stop mid-sentence.
I tend to ramble when I’m nervous, even in situations when I’d be better off keeping my mouth shut.
“And you didn’t think to check your bag?” the agent asks.
I bite back a laugh as he fumbles to turn off the vibrating wand. I’d offer to help, but knowing my luck, it’d probably land me on a no-fly list.
“No?” I say it as a question.
Note to self: Don’t accept sponsorships from adult novelty brands with a tight deadline right before going out of town.
I’m supposed to record the brand’s ad spots for the podcast at the start of the year, but I wanted to have firsthand experience with the products first. Unfortunately, shipping was delayed, and the package didn’t arrive until this morning. I crammedeverything into my suitcase, which made me late to the airport with no time to check my bag. It hadn’t crossed my mind that it could be an issue until the TSA agent dumped the collection on the counter.
“Are you asking or telling me?” he questions, exhaling in relief when the wand stops vibrating.
I run a hand through my hair, giving him a sheepish chuckle. “Depends on which option gets me to my gate before I miss my flight. I’m guessing neither comes with complimentary champagne?”
There isn’t so much as a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
Someone must be all out of holiday cheer.
No wonder—it’s a week before Christmas, and the airport is packed with travelers who think wrapping paper bans and liquid limits are negotiable. And now he’s dealing with a chatty Gen Zer lugging around a suitcase full of adult toys.
“Ma’am, if you don’t give me a direct answer, I’ll have to escort you to a secondary screening area, and that could take a while.” The agent presses his lips into a thin line. “Are you asking or telling me that you purposely didn’t check your bag?” His calm delivery is more intimidating than if he had shouted.
“Telling. Definitely telling,” I say, tugging my purse strap higher on my shoulder. “I didn’t want to chance missing my flight, so I came straight to security.”
I fully expect him to tell me to toss the items or go back to the check-in counter. Instead, he studies me with narrowed eyes as he drops the wand and the rest of my toys into the open suitcase and pushes it toward me with a brisk nod.
“Alrighty then. You’re all set.”
“Um… thanks,” I stammer, still shell-shocked from our interaction. “Happy holidays.”
