One of the Scariest Moments In My Life

So recently I was on a plane for the very first time to visit family. It was a bus ride to Detroit Metropolitan Airport, a plane ride to a small unassuming airport and finally a short car ride to my mother's house.

When I got to the Detroit Metropolitan Airport I was nervous. I've never been on a plane before, I've always took a bus or a train. I am partial to long train rides but the tickets for this particular plane were slightly cheaper and the travel time was cut, lets say significantly. I couldn't let that opportunity pass.

That being said I wasn't just nervous about the plane ride, I was always nervous about the TSA regulations. I had not quite made myself as familiar as I should. Luckily I was accompanied by a pleasant individual who was very familiar with the layout and procedures of that particular airport (which is very large by the way and, despite that it did not take long at all to get through security).

My lack of knowledge and experience that wrecked my mind before getting on the plane all left me when I landed in my destination, and was not one of the scariest moments in my life.

The scariest moment in my life came going through security of that small unassuming airport I mentioned earlier. My companion and I were going through security when all the sudden a TSA pulls my bag off the conveyer belt, looks at me and asks “Is this your bag?” I looked terrified, any confidence I gained from my experience at Detroit Metro died. “Yes that's is mine.”

(Note: I always travel light, so I only had a carry on and backpack)

She pulls my bag and me off to the side and informs me that it set off the machine and that she was going to have to manually inspect it. I'm scared but assure myself I've done nothing wrong and what was in that bag went through Detroit Metro, with the exception of a pair of slippers my mother bought me, and everything was okay. So she looks through the bag and fines nothing, but she still has to run it through the machine again. She runs it through, and it goes off again.

She asks me if there is anything metal in a specific region of my suitcase, I say no. Because there is none, as far as I know. She begins to look through the bag again, very carefully and respectfully. At this point I just wanna get on the plane home so I tell her, “you can rip it apart if you want.” (Not literally rip my bag apart but you know, look more aggressively). She does and then she realizes something. She takes most of my clothes out of my bag and unzips a little compartment in the back of my bag. You know what she finds?..... A small, winter-camo folding knife I lost 6 months ago. I'm stunned.

“Ya, you can't bring this on the plane.” She says.

What flies through my mind:

Oh my god, I'm going to jail,

I didn't even know that was in there,

Oh crap, it looks like I tried to hide it.

Calmly she explained the protocol to me and that it was fine it, happens more then you think. She explains that I can't bring it on the plane and I have to do one of three things. Have the bag checked, take the knife and put in my car, or surrender it. I surrendered it, luckily without soiling myself.