So it happens, the Transportation Stasi Administration is now in possession of my bike tool, just in case I hijack a frickin' plane with an Alan wrench.
She offered to let me cross back over to the other side, mail it, and wait in line again, which so wasn't gonna happen. I told her I'll just have to let the United States have it. "What was that sir, what was that?!"
I refrained from telling her I also had deadly fingernail clippers with me.