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JONATHAN
HOFFMAN |
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Read more by Jonathan
Previous columns: Intergenerational Corporate Welfare
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Flying the Incarcerated Skies
Author: Jonathan Hoffman
I stopped flying many moons ago
because of the offensive “security” procedures at airports.
I might add that this was before 9/11. I finally broke down,
and decided to fly to San Diego. After all, how bad could a
one and a half hour flight be?
Just to be on the safe side, I
engaged in comprehensive preparation including careful
packing and visualizations. I imagined myself preparing to
pay a visit behind the walls at the maximum-security prison
in Florence, Arizona. I closed my eyes, took deep breaths,
and imagined myself shuffling from guard to guard, not
speaking unless spoken to, etc. I was careful to pack all
the stuff that I would need in “the world” in my baggage to
be checked, and was careful with what I packed in my
carry-on bags.
The flight left in the early
morning. I showed up an hour and a half ahead of time to
check my bag, and deal with anything that might obstruct an
infrequent flyer. I entered the terminal, and found the
Southwest Airlines counter. There were a couple of short
lines, and one long line of passengers waiting to check-in.
I did not comprehend the signs that specified the purpose of
each line; however, I knew from experience that were I to
use a short line, I would be directed to the end of the long
line when I got to the desk, so I just went directly to the
end of the long line.
I eventually made it to the
counter where I presented the clerk with my ticket receipt
and internal passport – you know, that government issued
photo-ID euphemistically referred to as a “driver’s
license”. Once she had the passport firmly in hand, she
issued a pass to me that would allow me to board the
airplane.
From there, I moved to the next
line. This one was for the checkpoint that cleared people
for the gate. It was even longer. They sent over an extra
guard to process people more quickly. I finally shuffled up
to the guard who, having determined that my papers were in
order, instructed me to continue.
What came next was unbelievable.
It was yet another line where people were taking off their
jackets and shoes and placing them in plastic tubs. They
then placed the tubs on a conveyor belt with their carry-on
bags. I remembered hearing a few weeks prior that the head
warden, Secretary of Transportation Norman Mineta, said that
we would no longer have to take off our shoes, but people
were doing it anyway. I was wearing a pair of rubber slip-on
shoes – like the guys in Florence wear - so I did not take
them off. In fact, I was getting a little steamed, and went
around the guy in front of me and through the metal
detector.
Setting off no alarms, I began
to feel a little better. Then I saw something horrifying.
There was a sort of corral off to the side where a
middle-aged man was holding his hands over his head while a
guard stuck his wand between the guy’s legs, and up and down
his sides. The guard was smiling. The horrifying part was
that the guy was smiling, laughing and generally yucking it
up with the guard! That guy has a lot to learn about being a
prisoner. I’m not sure which one disgusted me more. I
wondered if Mr. Smiley was one of those people who became
enraged when he learned that the government was listening in
on conversations between people here and their overseas
Al-Qaeda contacts.
Why do Americans put up with
this? We’re not French. Where is the outrage? I understand
that we are at war, but no one in authority was looking for
saboteurs, or spies in the airport that day. Will the doofus
with the upraised hands be smiling when these checkpoints
are set up on the highway, or on city street corners? Will
people be arrested and questioned if they turn off the
highway before the checkpoint, or get out of line on a
downtown street? Turning the country into a prison is not
the solution to the domestic security problem. Not in this
country.
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