Between my post-Thanksgiving crash and the arrival of the pet memo, I didn't get a chance to write about my increasingly surreal experience with air travel in the United States, updated with fresh security for the holidays.

I do recall mentioning that the airport shuttle picked me up at my parents' house in DC at 7:30am for an 11:00 flight out of Baltimore/Washington International, which is about fifty minutes north of the city. I wasn't particularly surprised with the early pick-up. I knew that the airport would be crowded and that security would be tight, or at least slow, and I didn't want to miss the plane.

I checked my suitcase and picked up my boarding pass at the US Airways counter, struggling to stay awake. After yes-ma'am-ing and no-ma'am-ing my way through the security questions (has this bag been in your possession since you packed it? did any terrorists ask you to carry a bomb on board for them? and so on), the agent gave me a brisk smile and passed my ID and boarding pass over the counter. "You'll be leaving out of gate D-22. I know it's early, but I do recommend that you go through security right away, as it's likely to be a long line." I thanked her and headed off in the direction she indicated.

BWI is divided into sections called piers. Each pier has its own security checkpoint. I walked past the people lined up at Pier D security to step in behind them, turned a corner, and looked up to a truly astounding sight: the line for Pier D security stretched a good fifth of a mile back, all the way up the ramp to Pier E.

I'm serious. It was incredible. I walked down past the line with a slack-jawed look of amazement on my face. I know this because I spent the next hour in line seeing that look replicated on the faces of travelers who arrived after I did. I kept looking for a good vantage point (read: high) to take a photo for posterity, but even standing on benches and planters, I couldn't begin to capture the enormity of the situation.

Surprisingly, no one was seriously grumbling. There was a chorus of "I don't believe this!" on a loop, but beyond that, people were friendly and polite to one another. (We're all in this together, folks.) So it could have been worse.

After fifty minutes in line, I came within sight of the roped-off metal detectors and conveyer belts, feeling like a lost sailor finally spotting land. There were signs advising us to have our tickets and identification cards ready and signs telling us to remove laptop computers from their cases and signs reminding us that videotaping or photographing security procedures was forbidden. And right outside the cordon was a large sign on a stand which simply robbed me of speech. To wit:

They followed my line of sight and started laughing. I shushed them before they could make any stupid bomb jokes and get us all arrested, but we were all wondering by then. Does the airport have a chronic problem of people trying to carry their hand grenades through security? Is this a common occurrence, common enough to have made a sign specifically reminding travelers not to bring their grenades though security?

Inquiring minds want to know.

This inquiring mind is going to write to BWI security and find out the answer to the mystery of the No Grenades sign. Stay tuned.