A lady of Miss Manners' acquaintance was required to remove her sweater in a crowd full of strangers.

Fortunately, she was also of Miss Manners' vintage, so under the sweater, she wore a garment once known to all fastidious ladies as a "full slip." Such a garment still exists, but it is now mistakenly called a "dress." To the shock of youthful observers, the lady in question appeared to be outfitted in preparation for quick stripping, presumably so as not to waste any time in hitting the club scene once she arrived at her destination.

A young gentleman of Miss Manners' acquaintance was ordered first to stretch his arms out straight from his shoulders, then to unfasten his belt buckle. When he attempted to use his hands to follow the second instruction, he was caught violating the first. "Didn't I tell you to keep your arms up?" the guard barked.

Miss Manners got off easy. All she had to do was to remove her shoes and, for the first time since ballet class, hold her toes up to public view.

And people had been complaining that air travel lost its dignity when the passengers stopped wearing gloves and hats to travel.

As we all recognize, the choice between dignity and safety is no choice at all -- especially among people who want to go where they are scheduled to go, and who happen to notice that armed guards are present. The question is whether we can have both.

Not that travelers should reasonably expect this. Since the days when innkeepers unceremoniously stuffed their clients into one another's rooms and beds, the realistic choice was between dignity and travel.

Anyway, if the phrase "carefree travel" were not just a travel-brochure fantasy, it would ruin the experience. Stories about ludicrous incidents, preferably embarrassing ones, form the staple of returned travelers' conversation. As they quickly discover, no one is willing to listen to how deeply they felt about visiting the actual place where something historical happened, or the menu of that great little restaurant unknown to the rest of the tourist world.

Still, there are little adjustments that would make air security investigations less of a trial, not just for those going abroad, but for those who are employed to go through their unsavory belongings.

For example, Miss Manners would like to see the fashion industry make a patriotic attempt to popularize the Frieda Kahlo look, so that the panic potential would be removed from tweezers being confiscated. And, if airports set up laundry machines outside the security lines, this would give passengers something to do while waiting in line, and spare the inspectors having to see their unmentionables in an unmentionable state.

Etiquette adjustment is even more important. Pretending not to notice the obvious, such as topless ladies and open-trousered gentlemen, does not come easily to a population that has accustomed itself to expressing its every observation, to the extent of informing strangers that they are tall or fat. Yet, it is a necessity.

Never one to give out prizes for natural behavior, Miss Manners has been pleased to observe people in various aspects of this situation rising above their natural reactions.

Crime fighters naturally regard everyone with suspicion, yet she has observed quite a number of them treating suspects -- meaning the entire traveling public -- with polite deference. Many have revived the nearly forgotten terms "sir" and "madam," and convey through their calmness the notion that they are performing a regrettably necessary routine rather than relishing their authority to make people squirm.

Citizens naturally take the position that they are so obviously respectable that any such routines are a waste of time, causing security people to neglect their real job of catching criminals. Yet, she has seen examples of patience and grace practiced by those being searched, which are all the more amazing considering that only a year ago, it was common to observe people going into rages at airports merely over delays caused by bad weather.

Her prize for civilized restraint under pressure goes to Rep. John Dingell (D-Mich.) Subjected to the pants-down search at airport security, he never once let drop the fact that he is a Member of Congress. Now that is the kind of unnatural behavior that Miss Manners admires.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A lot of my colleagues close their letters with the phrase, "With kind regards." This sounds strange to me.

It seems to me that the recipient should decide whether the regards are kind or not, not the sender. I always thought you were supposed to say "Best regards" if you wanted an informal closure to your letter. What do you think about this?

GENTLE READER: "Best regards"? What makes you think your regards are better than anyone else's?

Never mind, Miss Manners doesn't mean that. She knows you have kindly intentions. She believes that your colleagues do, too, when they send their most kindly meant regards.

Perhaps not. Perhaps there are unkind thoughts being harbored by someone. If so, she would rather not know about this, and prefers generously -- if she does say so herself -- to take them at face value. She trusts that this makes up for her snippiness about hosts who ask for "regrets only," on the presumption that people declining their invitations must be overcome with regret.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: Two of my dear friends are getting married in several months. We are part of a fairly large group of friends, all of whom travel extensively to celebrate holidays and events together, including an annual reunion in the summer. I am planning a bachelorette party for the bride, and a male friend is planning the groom's.

Not everyone in this large group of friends has been invited to the wedding, which is understandable. But, of course, even those who are not so close to the couple wish them well and would like to help them celebrate. (Please note that these are not the ribald sort of bachelor and bachelorette parties -- each party is a weekend vacation with a couple of activities and a focal celebratory dinner. It is not a truly hosted gathering, as people will pay their own ways, with the exception of the focal dinners. And, of course, a few of us have already pitched in to cover the bride's and groom's expenses.)

Would it make people feel awkward, or otherwise be rude or tacky, to "invite" those friends who are not invited to the wedding? They would, of course, be welcome -- this is not an issue of trying to deter party-crashers.

GENTLE READER: Wait, wait, wait -- you dashed right by a point on which Miss Manners has stumbled:

Why, exactly, is it understandable that only some, but not all, of a group of friends who are close enough to celebrate holidays together and to hold an annual reunion, are invited to this wedding?

If it were a small, family wedding, it would be understandable that only the couple's one or two friends might be included. But Miss Manners suspects that you are expecting her -- and those friends -- to understand that the bride and bridegroom prefer to spend their wedding budget on more expensive arrangements for part of their circle of friends than less elaborate ones for them all.

And you would be taking the brunt for their administering this snub, and compounding it by asking the left-out to sponsoring the celebration they are deemed fit to attend.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: How does one word an e-mail to tell a person, politely, of course, never again to forward jokes, chain letters or urban legends? I have tried several approaches, but to date all recipients have taken some degree of offense.

GENTLE READER: "Thanks for your e-mails. Please mark any personal messages -- I wouldn't want to miss them, but I've been skipping the mass mailings for lack of time. "

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: On a thank you note for a gift that I gave to my boyfriend's daughter, she wrote: "I would love for you to come to my new home for dinner. Schedule a date and let me know."

I do not feel comfortable scheduling a dinner where I am to be a guest. I consider her invitation to be in the category of insincere invitations like "please visit us some time."

To compound matters, my boyfriend thinks that I am spurning his daughter's invitation. I explained that if she invited me for dinner on a specific date, I would be happy to come. He seemed baffled by this, and when he shared my sentiments with his daughter, she indicated that it had to be done her way. Am I being unreasonable?

GENTLE READER: Unwise, for sure. Here the daughter of your beau is trying, however awkwardly, to be gracious, and you are accusing her of being rude by quibbling about the wording.

That's the sort of thing that gives etiquette a bad reputation.

Miss Manners acknowledges that invitations should be accompanied by specific dates, but there are exceptions when a sincere host may feel the need to yield to the convenience of prospective guests. For example, people who live out of town may be urged to suggest dates when it might be possible for them to visit.

From the daughter's wording, Miss Manners has the impression that she had the thought of deferring to you, as her elder (although why Miss Manners should make that leap is not clear) whose convenience should be sought.

If she had merely referred to "some time," Miss Manners would have agreed that you could hardly be expected to respond, "OK, how about Thursday?"

But that part about scheduling a date sounds serious. You can't decree a date unilaterally, but you could open negotiations by saying, "I'd love to come for dinner. I'm pretty much free after next week, although Fridays are always bad for me because I have my exercise class. When would be good for you?"

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Acquaintances seem to think it is appropriate to call and leave a message inviting me to a home merchandise party, one or two days in advance. They then ask me to call back with a yes or no, so they can prepare food accordingly.

I have never called back, assuming I am under no obligation, considering the manner in which I was invited. I have then received the catalog for the merchandise in my mail or doorstep, days later, asking me to order by a certain date, "payable to..."

Is it me, or have these merchandise/catalog party throwers become a little overbearing?

GENTLE READER: Not to mention confused. They seem to believe that you are bound to treat them with all the obligations due to friends while they target you with ploys that merchants aim at customers.

Miss Manners agrees that you are under no obligation, but asks you to consider whether you want to give them the full treatment you would give pesky salespeople, which is to ignore them. A compromise would be to reply to the invitation, not by expressing regret, as is decently required for social invitations, but by using the polite commercial response, which is, "Thank you, but I'm not interested."

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