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At first, I detected nothing wrong, save for the plastic TSA binder holding together the zipper. I cut it off and really didn't think anything of it, as the Transportation Security Administration had put a hot pink sticker around my suitcase handle when I left LA. I figured they just worked a little differently in Detroit.

I undid the clasp that was holding all of my clothes and various wedding yada together to get my toiletries, because I needed a shower, stat. When I paused upon reaching in to retrieve it. I had only packed my suitcase less than 9 hours before, and remembered putting things in different places, and somethings just didn't look right. That's when I saw it.

My hot pink, super-cute butterfly bedazzled thong that I'd gotten from the last Victoria's Secret semi-annual sale. The one I hadn't worn over this long weekend because I always make sure to pack too much underwear and hadn't needed it. The one that I'd stuffed into the very bottom of my bag because who wants one of those poor security inspectors to have to deal with my unmentionables if they happen to pick my suitcase to run that little bomb-detector-thingy-wand over (the technical term). Sitting right there at the top. And what was this exactly? I wondered to myself, leaning over to get a closer look. It was a piece of paper. From the TSA. And in large red letters across the top, it said "NOTIFICATION OF BAGGAGE INSPECTION." And it wasn't just near my thong, it was tucked into the lining.

Oh no they didn't, you're saying to yourself. I'm sorry to say it, my friends, but oh yes they did.

Not only did some TSA agent rifle through my stuff (which I'm not really oppossed to--if that's what it takes to fly safely, then so be it) but he also managed to have a sense of humor about it. I know what you're probably thinking. One might be outraged by this. (My mother certainly would.) But I actually busted out laughing, even after realizing that if they managed to find my clean undies down there at the bottom of my suitcase, chances were they found the worn ones, too. Then I was thinking about how many suitcases full of beige granny panties this guy had to go through before he came upon mine and thought "you know, anyone willing to wear this hot-pink, butterfly-bedazzled thong probably would think this was funny."

Aside from the slight, split-second squick I get whenever I think about it, it is really funny.

And so is the fact that all of you now know what my underwear look like.

Good times.

"Joey: Here it is buddy boy, you hide my clothes, I'm wearing everything you own.

Chandler: Oh My God, that is so not the opposite of taking someone's underwear!" -- Friends