During a recent trip to Miami, i.e. last weekend, I went through one of those “whole body” scanners at the airport. The process starts like this: right before you stand on the little foot outlines and put your hands up in a plaintive act of surrender, the security personnel tell you to remove everything from your pockets. When given this directive, I complied to the best of my ability. But it turns out I happened to have some lint in my pockets that was showing up on the scan. I kept turning open my pockets, and little flecks of lint would tumble onto the floor, but still no dice. I continued to search around but just couldn’t find the piece that was causing the problem. Finally, after about the sixth time, I finally found the offending flake of fiber hiding along a sewn crease deep in the recesses of my pocket. Finally freed from this tiny little ball, I was able to board the plane. So when I returned home, I decided to read up on the scanners and happened to stumble upon this story about a Miami airport employee whose coworkers found out he was more of an express jet than a 767 and decided to tease him about it.