There, it's official. I've reached my limit when it comes to US air travel regulations and I'm asking our government to stop biting the hand that feeds it. I am an American, I am a frequent flyer, and like millions of my fellow citizens, I am not a terrorist. And my guess is neither are you.

Having passed the five-year anniversary of September 11, 2001, we frequent fliers can easily recount the slippery slope into travel turmoil that we find ourselves in. First it was the sharp objects. Then the plastic knives. Next, near bankruptcy for most of the major US carriers, resulting in a lack of food, comfort, and nary an empty seat on most flights. Not long after, off came our shoes through security (unless you're wearing flat flip flops, ideal for Floridians, sure, but hardly practical for your average business traveler like me). Now, it's no liquids in our carry-ons. (My friend Dawn wonders how much longer it will be until they don't allow people on the planes). Let me ask you, do you really feel any safer for lack of these items in the cabin? Or like me, do you realize what a sham of security these regulations truly are? Had enough yet?

I have, although today of all days, I should count myself lucky. Let me tell you why.

As I write this, the 757 I sit in has reached its cruising altitude from Miami to San Francisco, a flight I almost did not make. Not because I left my house too late (okay, a little), not because it took too long to park my car (it didn't) and not because I waited to check in at the counter instead of advance checking-in online (I did it online), but because of hair styling products; nail polish remover, and facial skin cleanser. All liquids, and all prohibited in our carry-on bags, which means despite my best efforts to streamline the travel process I was nonetheless required to check my bag upon arrival at the airport. Eye make-up remover, shampoo and conditioner (along with several other liquid and gel health and beauty aids, see below) are all securely stowed in my suitcase. My suitcase stored above my seat. Yes, you read that correctly. So how, in this age of severely strict security regulations, did this happen?

Since forty people have each paid between $1400 and $1700 to attend a marketing seminar I'm teaching over the next two days, I suspect a miracle. The more likely reason? You're no safer in the air than you were nearly six years ago.

Here's how it went down for me today at Miami International. Armed with my pre-printed boarding pass and information from the airline's Web site indicating all I needed to do to complete the check-in process I started on the Internet was print myself a baggage tag from a self-service monitor, I approached said monitor. After following the directions it told me I was too late to check bags, and to see an agent. I argued with the agent to get my bag checked; he refused. I told him to forget it, I will carry it on, and he reminded me all liquids and gels will be confiscated.

I weighed the consequences of not showing up in time to start my seminar tomorrow with having the worst breath and hair day of my public life, and decided to take my chances with security. At the X-ray conveyor belt I kept my head down and unloaded my wares as usual, PC in a separate bin, briefcase and shoes in another, and suitcase at the end. "Think positive" I told myself, and to my incredulity security detected nothing, and sent me on my way. Just like the good old days.

I admit I experienced a last minute adrenaline-fueled rush of panic as I heard the final prohibited-liquids announcement over the gate PA system while handing my boarding pass to the agent. "We were about to close the door," she told me, letting me pass. I had a hearty chuckle to myself once I looked over my shoulder to be sure uniformed men weren't coming for me and my bag, and boarded the flight. For the record, here is the list of prohibited items, at least all I can remember, which are packed in that bag above my head:

* A 5 oz. spray bottle of liquid hair smoother

* An 8 oz. tube of silicone hair finishing gel

* A 12 oz. plastic bottle of hair straightener cream

* A spray bottle (travel size) of liquid perfume

* A 4 oz. bottle of nail polish remover

* Nail polish

* Toothpaste

* Mouthwash

* A metal, sharp-edged cuticle trimmer

* Metal tweezers

Now how safe do you feel? (You know, I could gouge an eye out with that cuticle trimmer . . . )

I simultaneously wonder how this happened and for my own selfish reasons, thank god it did. Had I lucked out because I followed a woman from my same flight into the "express/help me I'm running late" line at security? Was it by the good graces of the x-ray technician at security whose knowing look seemed to say "I can see you're a slave to your hair products but you look like an honest, hard-working girl so I'm going to let it slide"? Or was it simply fate? I could go on speculating, but that's not the point. Two things are: 1) I was not meant to miss this flight, and 2) Our government wants you to believe you are not safe in the air. Which, my own destiny aside, leaves only one real question: From whom are you not safe?

Call me crazy, but you can count me among the 36% of Americans who (according to a Scripps-Howard poll mentioned on page 46 of the Time magazine September 11, 2006 special issue) consider it "very likely" or "somewhat likely" that our government officials either allowed the 9/11 attacks to be carried out, or carried out the attacks themselves. Even if those makers of the movie Loose Change 911 didn't get it 100% right, roughly right is good enough for me. Something is most definitely rotten in Denmark, er, DC.

Maybe you're thinking it ridiculous that I'm going on about one suitcase slipping through the cracks. But in case it isn't already obvious, it certainly hasn't been just one. Certainly not for me. I've been flying an average of thirty to forty thousand miles a year on a combination of business and personal trips over the last fifteen years, and for the past five have kept my travel-size scissors and eyebrow tweezers a staple in my cosmetics bag, packed within my single small roll-aboard suitcase which I nearly always carry on rather than check. And that's just me, married middle-class mom, party of one. Multiply that by a few hundred thousand and you get the picture.

Let me come to the point. Enough is enough, and the only way things will change is with you. Refuse to take off your shoes. Refuse to be denied your luggage when you're running late or fearing the airline will misplace it at your connection point. Refuse to be inconvenienced, hungry, and crowded into airplanes like cattle into boxcars. Other countries (yes, I travel internationally) don't have our security restrictions, they have much smarter ones, procedures that make sense rather than instill fear in the public. Why keep people afraid, you wonder? How else do you keep them under control?

Stand up, American travelers, and let it be known you are not terrorists. I don't say this lightly; I'll practice what I preach by publishing it here. Let them come and get me, let them investigate all they want, I have nothing to hide. Because I am not a terrorist. Sadly, I can't say the same for "them".

At the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula, the once-sleepy towns of San José del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas have evolved into vacation playgrounds. This striking landscape attracts fishing enthusiasts, golfers, and anyone looking for sun and fun in an area that’s always warm.

At the luxury end of the scale, the Los Cabos region has several world-class resorts that are fixtures on annual best-of lists. Here are the five top resorts where you can’t go wrong, according to the upscale review site Luxury Latin America.

One and Only Palmilla
This resort sits on 250 acres of a 900–acre community, which includes private residences and a 27–hole Jack Nicklaus golf course. Its ten categories of luxury accommodations range from large oceanfront superior rooms to 12 beachfront one–bedroom luxury suites at 1,400 square feet. The beach here is swimmable, which is not always a given on this rocky coast.

Las Ventanas al Paraiso
Las Ventanas set the tone for a new standard for Los Cabos when in opened in the nineties. With international billionaires and tabloid celebrities guests among its guests, privacy and specialized service is ingrained into the culture of the staff. With a Robert Trent Jones golf course, a highly acclaimed spa, and a bevy of butlers at the ready, this resort is still hard to top.

The Hotel at Esperanza
With only 50 casitas and six luxury suites, this boutique resort is laid out like a private Mexican village. Spread across 17 lushly landscaped acres, the oceanfront hotel is perched on the bluffs of Punta Ballena (Whale Point) above two secluded coves on the Sea of Cortez, creating a natural barrier exclusive to registered guests. Accommodations range from 925 to 4,700 square feet, all facing the sea.

Marquis Los Cabos
With a 15,000-square-foot spa, stunning infinity pool complex, and rooms with great views, this is a great spot for taking in the dramatic scenery of Los Cabos. It is also the most Mexican-feeling resort around, with all interior design and décor items sourced locally. Public spaces are filled with an extensive art collection featuring 400 commissioned oil paintings and bronze sculptures featuring many notable Latin American artists.

Hilton Los Cabos
Under the same ownership as the Beverly Hilton in Los Angeles, this above-average chain hotel is coming off a major renovation, to the tune of $15,000 per room. Rooms range from large to larger and are now equipped with plenty of goodies like flat-screen TVs and marble baths with separate showers and whirlpool tubs. Stunning views are a given from most areas of the hotel and the draped lounge beds and draped palapas by the pool and swimming beach add more drama.