Wanted by the TSA

So I have been sitting here at this evil airport called Hancock (the name does it no justice) for five hours and counting. People, I repeat five hours of my life have been wasted at this godforsaken place. Although I must say, nothing will ever outdo my 11-hour layover to Australia at the LAX. I would like to offer no condolences of pity who have complained of a lesser layover. I'm sorry, I'm a jerk.
In any event, the word is out. I'm almost positive that the TSA (Transportation Security Administration) has a blacklist with my name on it. It never fails. Time and time again, I have been a victim for those "random" security checks or have been stopped by security. I have traveled three times this past year, and each time I have been stopped. Coincidence? I'm not sure. Perhaps my first security checkpoint stop has haunted and followed me all the way across the world from Fiji to here. Blast them!
Please excuse my little rant as I go on about this little "system" they call a "random" security checkpoint.
First of all, let me preface this situation. After canceling my flight on Friday to today, due to an unexpected short business engagement (more on this later), the airline gods have screwed me once more as my flight was delayed and eventually transferred over to a different airline. Did you folks know that not only do you have to go through another security check but if your airline has been switched to a different company, your ticket has been stamped in blaring red words: High-level Security Check. Maybe it's my face that gives it away. Maybe my face screams, "Hey! Look at me, potential bomber here!'
Moving on...
I was sent through a glass corridor where I had to wait for my bags. Now that isn't so bad except the fact that glass is transparent and the people that pass by to grab their bags must walk past you, instigating their instincts to raise an eyebrow or two. A slab of meat, a cavewoman at a circus show, an animal at the zoo -- that's what I felt like. The swinging gate didn't help either. It was as if the person inside was expected to charge through it like a wild animal (I really want to know who designed this thing).
I got the full-on pat down while others walked past me towards their gate. I gave them a sheepish smile as if to say, "I don't know what the deal is either?" to justify my "criminal intent" of flying with liquids. Violated, yes. But being violated while in the public eye is rather humiliating. They really give you the full treatment.
Hey, folks! Come one, come all! Take a look of what a flying offender looks like! That's right, step right up folks. This here is an example of what happens to those who fly with conditioner and contact solution in a ziploc bag not issued by GLAD.