Who's Afraid of the TSA?

I leave for the States in 25 days. But who's counting? I never thought I would be nervous about going home, but I am. Why, you may ask? Well, I have to honest, the whole flying 12 hours on a plane and going through customs in the states without my trusty Ira (he's sticking around to finish up end of the semester stuff) is a little unnerving. He IS my entertainment/airport and customs navigator/International Man of Mystery! Plus, I feel like I'm guilty of something and I haven't even packed yet! As I mentioned in a previous post, I've seen too many bad movies. I'm going to be Claire Danes in Brokedown Palace and someone will put hash in my carry on when I'm not looking. I just know it. Or I'll go to the Khan (market) to buy some Christmas presents and find out that I purchased a relic that the Egyptian government has been looking for for centuries and I get put in the clink for that. I can't imagine that the holding cells at JFK are where I want to spend the holidays. Mostly I'm just afraid that I'm going to be the dumb novice traveler girl that, as she's having her bags searched, says "Nope, no drugs in here!" "No illegal purchases of any kind!" and then end up getting strip searched because I can't keep my mouth shut. Sigh. I'm sure that once that phase of the trip is over, and I figure out how to get on and off the LIRR and make it to Penn Station, I'll be fine. I'm super excited to have dinner with my ultra hip Brooklyn friends Shara and Dave (and maybe Moustafa?!) little do they know I have 3 huge suitcases that preclude us from eating anywhere but a hot dog stand.