Just back from the post office, where I mailed the granddaughter her gift, a zester. What is a zester, you ask? It's a kitchen device designed to remove the "zest," that is, the outermost skin of a citrus fruit. The granddaughter's zester is an inch and a half wide and thirteen inches long, including its five inch handle. Essentially, it's a hand-held grater, very useful if you're a cooking enthusiast. And why, you ask, would I venture out in 15F, snowy weather to mail the zester to California, when the grand-daughter could have put it in her backpack when she returned home? Because, I was creditably advised, the zester would certainly be confiscated by airport security.
What have we come to, when, rightly or wrongly, we seriously entertain the idea that an eleven-year-old child could hijack an airplane armed only with a zester? What would she do, abrade the pilot to death?