#### May 16, 2006 | 8:53 PM
The security line at the airport was long as Thomas Kirkegaard approached. He could see the exasperated looks on many of the travelers' faces as they waited, hardly advancing, for their turn with the TSA officer checking IDs and plane tickets.
Beyond that main queue were four more lines forming to go through body scanners and to check bags and personal items going on board. The folks there were in some state of dressing or undressing depending on which side of the X-ray machines they were on.
Kirkegaard wasn't there to get on a flight. He didn't even have a boarding pass. He was there to pick up his wife Ann, who was returning from a two-week trip to visit her sister Francine in Rhode Island. The area for those who were awaiting arriving passengers was off to his right, but Kirkegaard went on by it. Instead, he headed for the pre-screened gate and let himself through.
Normally, the officer there would ask to see a ticket, but the man standing there didn't even acknowledge Kirkegaard's presence. He walked on by two other security guards who were helping with bins and answering passengers' questions. Neither of them stopped him, either.
"Hey, did you see what that guy just did?"
A woman in the nearest bag checking line was pointing at Kirkegaard while asking the man next to her. The man shrugged.
"No. What did he do?" The man looked up in the general direction of the way she was pointing.
"He just walked right in." She was clearly indignant. "No one said a word to him, either."
"What guy?" the man asked.
A look of surprise crossed her face. "Well, he was there just a second ago," she said. "I know what I saw."
Kirkegaard didn't stop, but kept going. He wondered if anyone would see him. Every once in a while, someone could, and it was a surprise each time. People generally saw what they wanted to see. At an airport, the vast majority would expect there to be aline, know they would have to wait in it until it was their turn, and most would trust that the process was for their safety and security.
At least, that's the way Kirkegaard imagined how it worked. After all this time, he still didn't really know why he could come and go as he pleasedโhe just knew that he could.
Every once in a while, though, some saw past their own limited world views. It happened much more frequently with young children than it did for teenagers or adults, but the little ones either didn't always know Kirkegaard was doing something out of the ordinary, or their stories were discounted. Either way, Kirkegaard was hardly ever challenged.
In fact, any challenging at all generally came from Ann.
As he moved on down the concourse to the gate Ann would arrive at, he knew she would not be happy with him. She didn't like him using his *ability*. He'd promised her he would stop. He'd been in enough trouble, big trouble, national-sized trouble, and she didn't want it to happen again. She never let him forget it, either.
Problem was, Kirkegaard didn't know how to stop it. At least, not for himself. He wasn't sure if it was possible. It might not just be him, but the perceptions of others, too. When he worked as a special ops contractor years ago, there was a team of doctors assigned to figure out how he did what he did, in hopes, he was sure, to duplicate it. Potentially weaponize it, or design a line of super spies. They never did figure it out, and Kirkegaard gave up that life for a large estate and peace and quiet.
In minutes, he arrived at the proper gate. A plane was already there and passengers had begun disembarking. Before too long, he saw Ann appear with her carry on luggage.
A warm smile crossed his lips, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Even after forty-two years of marriage and three grown children, just the sight of her made him giddy. That, despite the fact that she hardly ever looked at him the same way as he did her. She didn't have to. For Kirkegaard, it was enough just knowing that they would spend the rest of their lives together.
"What are you doing here?"
Kirkegaard had waved at her the moment she could see him. As predicted, she wasn't very happy.
"I'm taking you home," he said, innocently.
"You know what I mean, " she said, but she handed him her things, anyway. "You know you're supposed to be in the waiting area."
"I know, but then who would help you?"
"I don't need help," she said, but the briefest of smiles crossed her face, before disappearing. "You're going to get in trouble again, you know."
"I know," he nodded.
Kirkegaard asked her about her trip and her sister. As Ann recounted how both were good, and that she wished she had stayed longer, they arrived back to the screening area. As he listened intently to his wife's words, Kirkegaard's gaze fell upon a young man with *chiseled* facial features and a crewcut as he was entering the baggage checkpoint. Their eyes met, and for an instant, Kirkegaard lost all sense of time and space. It was as if he was standing outside himself, an ethereal witness to the mundane activities of mortal men.
Then the moment snapped back into place and found himself being buffeted on the shoulder.
"You're not listening to a word I'm saying, are you?" Ann was saying with no small amount of dismay.
"Let's wait here for a bit," Kirkegaard said, ushering her to pillar where they could partially block themselves from view but still see the screening area. Ann went to protest, but Kirkegaard asked her gently to wait.
The young man he'd made eye contact with was retrieving his carry on bag. All he needed to do was replace his shoes and he would be free to head to his gate. As he finished getting into his slip on Sketchers, he took a step. Then, in a blur, his foot slid, flew up and he came crashing down on his back. Simultaneously, his bag landed, and there was a loud clatter as items spewed out and skittered across the floor.
Almost immediately, he was being helped to his feet by one security guard while a couple of others helped retrieve his belongings. Those two, as they bent over picking things up were having a discussion about what they were finding. The young man thanked the officer who helped him and was about to go when the other two asked their colleague to detain him.
"Yes, we've got some suspicious materials in the baggage area," one of the officers said in his earpiece, "It somehow made it through the scanner." A second later, he nodded, said, "Yes, ma'am," and then added, "Sir, you'll need to come with me. Leave your bag."
With one hand on each of his shoulders and the other near their firearms on their hips, two of the guards ushered the young man away. He started to protest, but knowing it was of no use, he stopped and reluctantly allowed himself to be escorted.
"Okay. We should go," Kirkegaard said.
"What just happened?" Ann had peered back over her shoulder to witness the entire incident.
"I'm not sure," Kirkegaard shrugged, "Probably nothing good."
"You saw something, didn't you?" Ann pushed away from him, exasperated. "What did I just get through saying?"
"I missed you, too," Kirkegaard said, meaning every word.
<sub>*Images sourcesโPixabay and Pexels*</sub>
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