In October this year, I was at Baltimore International Airport getting ready to fly to Seattle for a visit with some friends and then a jaunt up to Vancouver to see my brother.
I'd bought some sneakers with no metal content, eyelets or shank, so I could walk through the metal-detector without removing my footwear.
I placed all my metal objects in the plastic container provided and set it on the conveyor to go through the X-ray machine.
I walked though the metal detector with nary a beep, but the TSA employee pulled me aside and said "We're going to have to wand you sir."
I said, "But there's no metal in my sneakers, the machine didn't beep."
He said, "But we're going to do it anyway."
I never lose my good humor in such situations (because it usually makes things worse with those guys and gals), so I said "Please go right ahead," with a pleasant smile.
"Please extend your arms out to the sides, sir." I did so, and he went over my arms and torso with the magic metal-detecting wand.
" Sit in this chair, please, sir."
I did so.
"Please extend your right leg, sir."
I did so, and he went over my leg with the wand. It beeped and chirped like a canary on speed.
"Do you have a metal knee, sir?"
"No."
Any metal pins or screws in your leg?"
"No."
"Please extend your other leg, sir."
I did so. Once again he went over the leg with the magic wand. Once again, beeping and chirping like an aviary at sunrise.
"Do you have a metal knee in THIS leg, sir?"
"No."
"Any metal pins or screws in THIS leg?"
"No."
He was scratching his head, befuddled, when a supervisor who had witnessed the whole exchange, came over and tapped him on the shoulder.
"John," he said, "it's the CHAIR leg."

Seamus