Everyone with any sense knows that flying is dehydrating. Oh, sure, airlines and the TSA disagree, but a parched throat and dry, crackling skin is par for the course of most of our catapultings across the stratosphere.

Still, if you think that’s dry, try plunging yourself into an orifice up to the hilt at 20,000 feet. But if you don’t do it in a cramped, sticky airplane toilet at least once, how will you ever join the Mile High Club?

We got an email from John, who had just such aspirations. He knew about airplane dehydration, so — a wily strategist — he intended to bring some K-Y on board with him on a recent flight. He even checked the TSA website, which assured him K-Y Jelly was not presently categorized as a terrorist weapon.

Of course, the prudes at airport security confiscated it anyway. Our only consolation is that, indeed, joining the Mile High Club isn’t nearly as cool as it sounds. With visible smell waves oscillating from the toilet and the door handle jammed into the small of your back, the moment of copulation usually ends with a few lame thrusts and then the simultaneous admission that this really just pretty much sucks.

John’s email, after the jump.

I was traveling to a convention and decided to bring along some personal lubricant in case anybody wanted a happy ending after eating rubber chicken for three days. As some bloggers have noted, toothpaste and shampoo are forbidden in carry-ons, but a little KY Jelly is A-OK: http://www.tsa.gov/travelers/airtravel/prohibited/permitted-prohibited-items.shtm#1.

I stuffed the bottle (under the allowed 4 ounces) into my carry-on and headed to the airport. An alert X-ray machine person pulled me over, and my luggage got inspected. The friendly TSA lady swabbed my shirts and underthings with one of those pads that detects bomb-making detritus, noted that my bottle of contacts lens solution was legal, and failed to notice the lube that I’d not-so-sneakily hidden in one of the bag’s front pouches.

This is a hassle, I said. Try putting your liquids in the little bowl for coins and keys next time, she said.

Next time came a few days later, and I did as she suggested, sending the lube bottle through the X-ray machine. And another TSA lady pulled me aside.

TSA lady: “What’s this?”

Me: “Umm.. it’s legal. I checked. It’s in the regulations.”

TSA lady: “Well, is it for your eyes?”

Me: “Not exactly.”

TSA lady: “You’re only supposed to take on things you’ll need on the plane.”

Me: “But I might need that on the plane.”

TSA lady: “What for?”

Me: “Um, never mind.”

And away went the lube, and my dreams of joining the Mile-High Club. Well, at least without some major chafing.

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