You're a cop — well, a security guard, but you act like you're a cop — working the beat for a low-brow North American airline. Standards have slipped over the years, your idealism long-worn away by the tough airline carpets. You're old and you're tired, and your eyes have grown equally tired exactly when they need to, if you take my meaning. You see what you need to see, and you do what you need to do in those long airport halls at night. Who else are they gonna trust, the TSA?

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