I hate flying. But I love to travel, so I must fly.

In the multiple trips back and forth across the globe, I’ve seen my share of weird things trying to make it through TSA. I’ve seen people arrested, people frisked, and people “making a run for it.”

I’ve also had my own run-ins with TSA personnel. Most of them are fine, but there have been a few … like the one who refused to let my souvenir blackberry jelly through the checkpoint and insisted I take it back to the check-in counter, all while he was stealing my camera equipment. I reported it, but it seems the TSA video camera malfunctioned, so there was no proof of the theft. How convenient.

Today I’m not going to rag on the TSA. Instead, I’m going to talk about some of the crazy, creepy and just wacko stuff that people try to bring through the TSA checkpoint.

Obviously, the biggest problem they see are guns, knives, box cutters and other forms of weapons. But nowadays, that’s almost commonplace. Last year there were more than 2,000 weapons that people tried to smuggle past TSA agents. Airport security also tried to smuggle guns and knives past the TSA as a test run, and 70 percent of the “smugglers” were successful. That really gives me pause.

Drugs are also an issue. But again, that’s a pretty common occurrence. Eels – now there’s something unusual. Remember the movie, “Snakes on a Plane?” Well, try to imagine eels on a plane. I wish I could say there was only one eel smuggler, but no; there have been multiple attempts to smuggle live eels into the states.

Certain cultures love to eat eels, but they must be alive until just before they’re eaten. Eels are no good unless they are really fresh. I wonder if they know the eels they are eating were smuggled into the U.S. inside someone’s pants. If I were ever to eat an eel – that last little bit of information might make me change my mind.

One dreary, early morning, a TSA agent was half asleep, wishing he’d downed more coffee before he rushed out of his house. He was sitting at the live screening counter, looking at the X-rayed contents of people’s bags. Underwear, shoes, pants, shirts … Wait a minute. What the -? A suicide vest came into clear view. Suddenly the TSA agent was wide awake. The suitcase’s owner was grabbed, and the suitcase was carefully opened – only to find out it was a fake. However, there actually were compounds in the case that were combustible.

I had to catch a plane, so I didn’t see the outcome of this grandiose attempt to get explosives past the TSA. So I don’t know what happened. He was not on my flight, however.

I’ve heard of people trying to carry power tools like jackhammers and chainsaws through TSA. “Bye, Mom – heading to the airport to visit with Suzie for a couple of days. I think I’ll pack my chainsaw.” Really, a chainsaw? I wonder if it had gas in it. Oh, Lord. Each to his own, I guess.

I hear a lot of complaining about TSA checking grandmas and grandpas and even little kids. You’d think they’d be safe, right? No. I want every one of those little buggers and grannies checked. It seems this group of young and old have a reputation for being sweet. Well, let me tell you: They are not sweet. Maybe it’s not them, per se, but their caretaker adult is only too happy to conceal guns, knives and other paraphernalia in grandma’s walker or inside little Joey’s teddy bear.

Just when you think you’re about ready to get out of that TSA line and bolt for your plane, here comes another lady with a cane. Being kind, the TSA personnel let her go in front of you. You check your watch again. You roll your eyes. Turns out the lady has a sword in the leg of her walker. The clock says 9:30, and your plane is just lifting off the tarmac. You’re watching them handcuff granny and haul her off without the walker.

“Next.” You’re not sure what to do. Go back to the ticket counter and start over, or proceed to the gate and hope someone is there to help you? “Lady. You’re holding up the line.” You move forward.

“Hold it. We’ve got a grenade on No. 2.” Everyone ducks. They grab the guy, grab the grenade, and there are about 10 seconds of silence. Turns out the grenade was made of steel, but the TSA agent unscrewed it, and inside was the guy’s stash. The guy surrendered his marijuana to the TSA agent who tackled him, and the TSA agent handed back the grenade to the traveler. What? What was he thinking? It’s like a toy gun. You can’t tell if the little kid has a toy or a real, loaded gun – or a grenade.

Now that I’ve missed my plane, I ask the TSA guy: “What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen coming through this checkpoint?” He replies: “We’ve had a stun gun, a container that looked like lipstick but it was really a knife. That was a good one. It was even hot pink with rhinestones on it. We’ve had human remains – you know, bits a pieces of bones and a skull. Mostly archaeological stuff. We had one guy who wanted to bring his entire collection of medieval weapons through here. He refused to check them, and I guess he ended up driving. It takes all kinds, you know.”

“Anything else strange?” I ask.

“Well,” he says, “We get a lot of illegal birds, sea turtles, tropical fish, stuff like that. One guy had parrots in his pants, and one parrot bit him so hard in a really delicate spot, and boy did he ever scream. We confiscated all of the birds, and he was arrested. And we gave him a Band-Aid.”

About this time, I was ready to load my bags onto the conveyor belt. I looked at the TSA agent and watched his jaw drop. I followed his gaze. A decaying cadaver was on the conveyor belt next to my bags. My jaw went lax. The TSA area was completely silent as everyone stopped and stared. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A minute later, we got our explanation. It was not a cadaver at all, but rather a wax figure prop from some zombie movie. And then there were 10 more going on to the conveyor belt.

“Well,” he said, “doesn’t that just beat all the rest to hell?”

Dianne Erskine-Hellrigel is executive director of the Community Hiking Club and president of the Santa Clara River Watershed Conservancy. Contact Dianne through communityhikingclub.org or at zuliebear@aol.com.