I can deal with increased airport security. I can deal with the long lines. I've overheard some entertaining conversations that I would have missed otherwise. I can deal with the fact that my luggage may be opened in my absence. Granted, I'm more comfortable with this on the outbound portion of my journey given that my clothes are mostly clean and presentable. On the return portion, well, they're taking their chances. I can deal with having to take off my coat exposing the site of my ample, jean clad derriere to the world. I can deal with being wanded. Everyone beeps now and then I can even deal with a quick pat down. I just close my eyes and think of England, or rather, America. I'm not so sure that I can deal with having my toes fondled. Perhaps fondled isn't the right word, but when someone feels my feet, rooting around through my thick socks to confirm that "yes, I'm wearing a toe ring" is a correct statement, it feels like fondling. Next time I fly, I'm wearing flip flops, whatever the weather, though I don't relish a repeat of this.