Let My Toiletries Go

I fly out tomorrow to meet the fam for some sun and sand on the east coast, where you can actually get in the water without fear of hypothermia, riptides and great white sharks. Naturally, I'll battle other neuroses while afloat, trying not to imagine terrifying giant squid, man-eating crocodiles and genetically anamolous aggressive dolphins lurking in the depths below my floaty.

But what I'm really worried about is what the ever-vigilant luggage screeners will find to hassle me about as I strip down and shuffle meekly through security. Last time I flew I had to mail home my moisturizer because it was 3.5 ounces (1/2 ounce too big) and my tightly rolled-up size-of-a-matchbox-car tube of toothpaste because the container was originally 6 ounces. I'm sure the whole flight breathed a sigh of relief that Professional Critic was not going to moisturize them against their will and that they were safe from dangerous toothpaste vapors.