Oddly enough, you get felt up when the TSA pats you down. Felt up like you were in the back seat of a 1965 Chevy Malibu in the back row at the drive-in theater. Felt up by some guy who now wants to be a union goon. Felt up like you’re getting a happy ending massage except it’s the TSA agent who gets the happy ending. Felt up like you haven’t been felt up since your last prostate exam. Felt up in a way where “no” is supposed to mean “no,” but “no” is not an acceptable answer.
This pretty much explains it all:
Source: GraphJam.com
