As I’m sitting here writing these words, I am angry. I tried to write something fun this month. I wanted to write something fun, something that wasn’t a call to arms or a dissection of tragedy. I started out as a comic after all. However, sometimes things happen that I cannot, and perhaps should not, just let pass.
Two days ago I was traveling from a friend’s house in Providence to my present home in Littleton by commuter rail via Boston. While in town, I needed to stop by an office of our fine federal government to deal with one of the many little form changes that seem to go hand in hand with a transgender identity.
Upon finding and entering the building, I saw that there was a standard security set-up, with an X-ray machine and walk-through metal detector. It’s a routine I’m used to from lots of travel. Unfortunately, I was traveling with the overstuffed backpack I had brought for several days away from home.