Once decades ago, I had been overseas fighting for freedom, yada yada... You know, it was a nameless war in a nameless land fighting for an oppressed population that didn't seem to care. After 14 months, I returned to the U.S. near Seattle, walked down the steps off the aircraft, and kissed the tarmac. A minute later, the agent was getting ready to pounce on me for all of the contraband that I must be carrying.
He stuck his hand down into my duffle bag, felt around a minute, and then waved me on... then said "Thank you for your service. Welcome home." So, I shook his hand.
I don't blame them a bit for the job that they do.