My four ounce bottle of contact lens solution is determined not a threat.

The anticipation is always worse than the actual event and even though now there are three queues to stand in going through security and Midway is a mess, I was in the “secure” area looking for coffee in 15 minutes.

What makes it hateful is the lack of fore thought. Halfway down the queue there is a man yelling something and gesturing to people to join another queue. I am one of the many who head to him only to hear that if we have liquids to get back into the queue that we are in.

It seems that this was the liquid free area and all the rest had to have our liquids looked at, our boarding passes stamped and told to place them in a separate bin going through x-rays.

It seems that everyone in front of me is a candidate for the next model programme as gallon baggies of make-up are being shown. I feel embarrassed about the 4 ounce – actually 3,5 ounces but still over the limit – bottle of lens solution.

So now I am balancing, boarding pass, i.d., bags, computer, shoes, and a baggie of liquid as I make my way to the Valhalla of the boarding area.

Needless to say nothing was checked, they glance at my boarding pass much less the scribble and officious stamp that would have made any petty bureaucrat of the Costa e Silva years in Brasil envious.

But I do feel safe – if I ignore that bloke beside me with his bottled water in the liquid free zone between security and the gate.