I stepped through the airport scanners. They didn’t go off. I let out a sigh. I had been scared that the buttons of my jeans would set it off, and then the circus would commence. Again.

Unfortunately that sigh prompted the circus to begin without so much as a beep.

“’Scuse me, Miss. Can you step over ’ere a minute.”

Great, I thought. I just hope they don’t find a reason to strip search me again. Last time it was because the alarm went off on my phone.

Groaning, I walked towards the security guard, before standing in the position I knew so well. To my left I saw a white man walk gingerly through the scanner and let out a huge sigh of relief as it failed to go off.

The security guards did nothing.

I couldn’t help but groan in frustration and start to tap my foot as my arms started hurting. “Miss. Please stop doing that. And give me your shoe please.”

The white man was now several feet in front of me as he carefully put his rucksack on his back.

A plane went down that day, and it wasn’t mine.