Ace was going through TSA security at LAX when the agent stopped him. The vintage Les Paul in its case had shown up on the X-ray and protocol required inspection. The agent opened the case, saw the guitar, and whistled. This is expensive. Really expensive. Is this your guitar? Yes.

Can I ask what you paid for it? [snorts] I don’t remember exactly. It was a long time ago. The agent examined it, clearly uncomfortable handling something so valuable. Sir, I have to tell you, traveling with a guitar worth this much is really risky. TSA isn’t responsible for damage. You should consider leaving expensive instruments at home.

Nobody really needs a guitar this valuable just to travel. Ace smiled. I need it. I’m performing. Still, you could rent a guitar at your destination or buy a cheaper one for travel. This is just it’s too much guitar for airport travel. The musician in line behind Ace leaned forward. Dude, that’s Ace Frley.

That guitar’s been through thousands of airports. It was a Thursday afternoon in September 2018 at Los Angeles International Airport. Terminal 5, the one that handled most domestic flights. The security checkpoint was moderately busy. Not the insane weekend rush, but steady traffic of business travelers, families, musicians heading to gigs.

The TSA agent working the baggage scanner was named Kevin Park. 28 years old, worked for TSA for 4 years, took his job seriously. He’d been trained to spot potential threats, unusual items, things that didn’t belong, and he’d also been trained in proper procedures for handling valuable or fragile items that passengers insisted on carrying through security.

When Ace’s guitar case went through the X-ray machine, it lit up as a dense object requiring inspection. Standard procedure. Kevin had seen hundreds of guitars go through security. Most were in soft gig bags or hard cases. This was clearly a hard case, and the shape on the screen suggested a less Paul or similar solid body guitar.

“Sir, I need to inspect your guitar,” Kevin called out. Ace stepped aside, waiting as Kevin retrieved the case and brought it to the inspection table. Other passengers moved around them, the normal flow of airport security continuing. Kevin opened the latches on the case and lifted the lid.

Inside was a tobacco sunburst less Paul that even to his non-expert eyes looked old and valuable. The finish had the kind of checking and wear that came from decades of use. The hardware had aged patina. This wasn’t a new guitar. He whistled low. This is expensive. Really expensive. It’s old, Ace said.

Is this your guitar? Yes. Can I ask what you paid for it? Ace thought back. I don’t remember exactly. It was a long time ago. Few hundreds maybe. Guitars were cheaper back then. Kevin carefully examined the guitar without touching it more than necessary. He could see it was a 50s less Paul.

The details were unmistakable even to someone who wasn’t a guitar expert. and he knew enough to know that 50s lay PS were worth serious money. Now sir, I have to tell you traveling with a guitar worth this much is really risky. TSA isn’t responsible for damage or theft. If something happens to this during your flight, you have no recourse against us or the airline. I understand.

You should consider leaving expensive instruments at home. Store them somewhere safe. Nobody really needs a guitar this valuable just to travel with. I need it. Ace said, “I’m performing tonight.” Kevin closed the case carefully, but continued his well-meaning advice. Still, you could rent a guitar at your destination.

Most major cities have music stores that rent professional equipment, or you could buy a cheaper guitar specifically for travel. Use this one only for local gigs where you can transport it yourself. I’ve been flying with this guitar for decades. That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. This is just it’s too much guitar for airport travel. The risk isn’t worth it.

What if baggage handlers drop it? What if the overhead compartment shifts during turbulence? What if someone steals it while you’re in the bathroom during your flight? A voice came from behind Ace in line. Dude, that’s Ace Frillley. That guitar’s been through thousands of airports. Kevin looked at the speaker.

A younger guy, maybe early 20s, carrying his own guitar in a gig bag. Then he looked back at Ace. Really looked at him for the first time. older man, maybe late 60s. Gray hair, leather jacket, jeans, weathered face with a calm, amused expression. You’re Ace Frily? Yeah. Kevin felt his face flush from Kiss. Yeah.

And [snorts] this is this is one of your actual guitars, like the ones you played on albums. This specific one? Yeah, I’ve had it since 1973. Kevin looked down at the case he’d been lecturing about. Inside was a guitar that had been on platinum selling albums, played on world tours, used to create some of the most famous guitar riffs in rock history, and he just told its owner that nobody needs a guitar that valuable for travel.

I just told Ace Frell he should rent a guitar instead of using his own. You were trying to be helpful, Ace said. I told you to buy a cheaper travel guitar. That’s actually not bad advice for most people, but you’re not most people. You’re Ace Frillley. This guitar is famous. The young musician who’d recognized Ace spoke up again.

That’s probably the guitar he played on Shock Me and Cold Jin and like 50 other classic songs. Kevin had gone from helpful to mortified. I’m so sorry, Mr. Freley. I didn’t recognize you. If I’d known If you’d known, would you have given different advice? Well, yes. I mean, obviously you need your own guitar.

You can’t play someone else’s instrument when you’re Ace Frilly. Why not? A guitar is a guitar. But but this is your guitar. It’s part of your sound, your history. It’s not interchangeable. Actually, I could probably play any decent Les Paul and get pretty close to the same sound. The guitar matters, but not as much as people think.

Most of the tone is in my hands, my technique. Kevin wasn’t sure what to say to that. Still, I shouldn’t have assumed. I see dozens of musicians every day traveling with expensive instruments. Most of them are working musicians who can barely afford those instruments. I was trying to give you practical advice about protecting a valuable asset.

I didn’t realize the asset was historically significant. It’s just a guitar. It happens to be one I’m attached to, but it’s still just wood and metal and wire. If something happened to it, I’d be sad, but I’d survive. Another TSA agent, Sarah Chen, had been watching the exchange. She walked over.

Kevin, is there a problem? No problem. Just I was giving Mr. Freillley advice about traveling with expensive guitars. Sarah looked at Ace, then at the guitar case, then back at Kevin. Please tell me you didn’t lecture Ace Freely about guitar security. I didn’t know it was him. Kevin, even if it wasn’t him, it’s not our job to tell passengers they shouldn’t travel with valuable items.

Our job is to screen them for security threats. That’s it. I was trying to be helpful. That guitar is worth like $60,000, maybe more. And it’s been through this airport probably hundreds of times, Sarah said. She turned to Ace. Mr. Freley, I apologize for the delay. Your guitar is fine to proceed. No worries, Ace said.

Kevin was being thoughtful. Most people with guitars this valuable probably should be more careful. But not you, Kevin asked. I’m careful, but I’m also practical. This guitar is a tool. I use it for work. Yes, it’s valuable, but it’s more valuable to me as an instrument I can play than as an investment sitting in a vault somewhere.

Sarah handed the case back to Ace. For what it’s worth, we do see your guitar come through here pretty regularly. The screeners know it. We’ve got a note in the system. 59 Les Paul tobacco sunburst belongs to Ace Frley, regular traveler. No special handling required. You have notes about my guitar in your system.

We have notes about a lot of regular travelers who carry valuable or unusual items. Helps us process them faster. Makes sure new agents don’t freak out when they see something expensive. Kevin had recovered slightly from his embarrassment. Can I ask you something, Mr. Freley? Why do you carry it on instead of checking it? If you put it in the cargo hold, at least it wouldn’t take up overhead space or be at risk during the flight.

Have you seen how baggage handlers treat luggage? Fair point. And the FAA Modernization Act of 2012 specifically gives musicians the right to carry on their instruments if there’s space available. Airlines have to allow it. I know the rule. I just figured someone like you would have, I don’t know, special arrangements, private planes or something.

I fly commercial like everyone else. Sometimes first class if it’s a long flight, but usually just regular seats. The young musician behind them spoke up again. Mr. Freillley, can I ask, do you ever worry about it getting stolen? Like in the overhead compartment, someone could just grab it. Could happen. Hasn’t yet.

And if it did, I’d deal with it. Can’t live your life worried about every possible bad thing that might happen. Kevin had one more question. You said you paid a few hundred for it. Do you ever think about what it’s worth now versus what you paid? Not really. I didn’t buy it as an investment. I bought it to play.

The fact that it’s worth more now is interesting but irrelevant. I’m not selling it. So, the dollar value doesn’t matter to me. But if something happened to it, if it got destroyed or stolen, you’d be out $60,000 or more. I’d be out a guitar I’ve played for 45 years. The emotional value is higher than the financial value.

You can’t put a price on the history I have with this instrument. Sarah, who’d been listening to this exchange, added, “That’s actually a good point for you to remember, Kevin. When you’re advising passengers about valuable items, you’re only seeing the financial risk. You’re not seeing the personal attachment, the professional necessity, the history.

That guitar to you is $60,000 of liability. To Mr. Freilly, it’s 45 years of his career. Kevin nodded. I get that. But from a pure riskmanagement standpoint, traveling with something that valuable and irreplaceable still seems risky. It is risky, Ace agreed. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take. The alternative is not traveling with it, which means not playing it, which defeats the purpose of owning it.

The young musician had been taking all this in. This is the coolest airport security conversation I’ve ever heard. I’m definitely telling people about this. Ace picked up his guitar case. Kevin, you were doing your job and trying to be helpful. I appreciate that. Don’t beat yourself up about it.

Still, I should have recognized you. Why? I look different without the makeup and you see thousands of people every day. Can’t expect you to recognize every musician who comes through. But you’re Ace Frillley from KISS. That’s not just any musician. To you maybe, but to someone who doesn’t listen to rock music, I’m just some older guy with a guitar.

And that’s fine. Kevin handed back Ace’s ID and boarding pass. Well, for what it’s worth, I grew up listening to Kiss. My dad played your albums all the time. I should have recognized you. Your dad has good taste. As Ace headed toward his gate, Kevin turned to Sarah. I just lectured Ace Frillley about guitar safety. Yep.

That’s going to be my most embarrassing work story forever. Probably. Although, to be fair, everything I said was technically correct. That guitar is risky to travel with. Technically correct is not the same as appropriate. Sarah said, “He’s been traveling with that guitar longer than you’ve been alive. Pretty sure he knows what he’s doing.

” The young musician was still standing there grinning. “Can I get your name? I want to tell this story accurately.” “Please don’t tell this story,” Kevin said. “Too late. I’m already texting my bandmates. TSA agent told Ace Freilley, “Nobody needs a guitar that expensive for travel.” Kevin groaned. Later that evening, Kevin told the story to his father, who’d raised him on KISS albums.

His dad laughed so hard he nearly choked. You told Space Ace to rent a guitar. I didn’t know it was him. That guitar has been on more stages than you’ve been through airports. When you put it that way, did he at least sign something? Kevin realized he hadn’t even thought to ask. No, I was too busy apologizing.

But the story spread, and not in the way Kevin feared. It became about Ace’s philosophy on instruments. Musicians shared it as an example of why you play guitars instead of babying them. Collectors debated whether Ace was right to travel with such valuable instruments. Forums discussed the balance between preservation and use.

Someone posted, “Ace freely says tone is in his hands, not the guitar. Discuss.” Responses ranged from agreement to fierce debate about vintage instruments. A music magazine interviewed Ace about it. He reiterated, “I could play most songs on any decent guitar. The specific instrument matters less than people think.

I’m attached to my 59 Les Paul, but if I lost it tomorrow, I’d find another guitar and keep playing. The music doesn’t live in the guitar. It lives in here.” He pointed to his head and heart. And Kevin learned something that day that changed how he approached his job. When he saw valuable instruments come through security after that he stopped offering unsolicited advice about risk management.

He started understanding that for professional musicians these weren’t just expensive objects. They were tools, partners, extensions of themselves. He also started recognizing more musicians. Made a point to learn who the regular travelers were, what they played, why they were flying. Turned out LAX saw a lot of famous guitarists passing through and most of them looked nothing like their stage personas.

And every time he saw a vintage Le Paul come through the X-ray machine, he remembered the day he told one of Rock’s most famous guitarists that nobody needs a guitar that valuable for travel. And the guitarist had smiled and explained patiently and kindly exactly why he did need it. If this story moved you, subscribe and share it with musicians and travelers.

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