NEWPORT - Edna Bartram doesn't look like the dangerous type. She's a bed-and-breakfast operator. She's 74, a grandmother and she's blind.

You had better be careful.

The Middletown woman knows the airline industry is on to her. She knows its security guards look at her, even if she can't look back. So, in December, for the first time, Bartram decided not to take chances. She walked into an airport unarmed, leaving her weapons at home.

“I didn't want them confiscated,” Bartram says.

Normally on a long trip, Bartram packs a pair of potentially powerful knitting needles.

“This is pretty stupid,” Bartram says. “I think they're overreacting.”

Ma'am, calm down and slowly step away from that yarn-covered cannon ball.

“This is really annoying,” Bartram says. “What am I supposed to do on the plane?”

Since Sept. 11, so much about flying isn't the same. No nail files, cutting tools or “any sharp objects” are allowed in carry-on bags.

“When we heard that, we knew we were doomed,” says Carolyn Musgrave, owner of the Knitting Needles store in Newport.

We, in this case, are the airplane-traveling members of the knitting community.

“There are a lot of upset knitters,” Musgrave says.

It doesn't matter what kind of knitting needles you're talking about. If they're short or long, made of metal, bamboo or plastic, they're not welcome in planes. You've got to put them in your suitcase.

“They're considered a possible weapon,” Musgrave says. “You'd have to use tremendous force.”

Once you get to where you're going, your knitting may begin. Until then, while you sit for hours in the airport and on the plane, think again.

“It's too bad,” says Barbara McAloon, a knitter who lives in Portsmouth. “In December, when you're in crunchtime for Christmas presents that you're making, you look forward to that time when you can knit.”

For some, knitting is an elixir against their fear of flying.

“It's a repetitive motion and it calms and centers you,” Musgrave says. “To some people it feels like Zen.”

To some people, this no-knitting decree seems unreasonable.

“Plastic needles aren't more dangerous than those plastic knives they give you in coach,” Bartram says.

Even more dangerous than plastic knitting needles are plastic ball-point pens, which have a metal tip, and with which virtually every passenger is armed. But pens aren't prohibited.

“Pens are not perceived as a weapon,” Musgrave says. “It's all just about perception.”

William Steinkamp, director of airport security at T.F. Green Airport, did not return calls to clear up this discrepancy. Why is it the pen is not mightier than the knitting needle?

This is not a Rhode Island issue, but a national one. Bartram's flight in December was out of Logan Airport in Boston, where knitting needles were forbidden. But it's the practice all over.

“You know you can't do it, so you don't do it,” McAloon said. “You just adjust.”

Musgrave advises people to pack their knitting needles in their luggage, or mail them to their destination. Knitters don't suspect the airline industry will change its policy.

The shoe-bomber certainly didn't help.

“After that, knitting needles are not going to happen,” Musgrave says.

But knitters as a group are taking this pretty well.

“Knitters are nice people,” Musgrave says. “We don't sue. We just feel bad we can't knit.”

That's OK. Knitters nationwide - who have been knitting caps, sweaters and scarves for ground zero workers and for Afghan children — understand the situation.

“Life has changed since Sept. 11,” McAloon says. “All of us have to make whatever sacrifices we need to keep everyone safe.”

Since Sept. 11, Musgrave reports her knitting supply sales are up 25 percent from the same period last year. While there are no national statistics yet, the Craft Yarn Council said a similar increase nationwide would not be surprising.

“People are under a lot of stress,” Musgrave says.

Knitting is relaxing, or so knitters say. But Bartram will have to find something else to do the next time she flies. In December, not only did she not bring her knitting needles, she put her fold-up white cane in her luggage.

“I figured they'd complain about that,” Bartram says. “It's more dangerous than knitting needles.”

Next time, Bartram says, she'll take a book on tape. Let's hope it's a good yarn.