In the interest of national security and the war on terror, it's time for me to weigh in on the issue of profiling passengers. I was under the impression that profiling was illegal, or at least strongly discouraged by the Transportation Safety Administration. After talking with a friend who had just tried to get through security at JFK in New York, I found out that I had been sadly mistaken.
Don't get me wrong, I don't have any really strong opinions or feelings - for or against profiling. I figure that they know what they're doing, and I certainly wouldn't want them to offend anyone. Like the time that my wife and I tried to make a connection in NY after a 14 hour flight from Istanbul on our 25th anniversary, and the woman at the ticket counter gave my wife her boarding pass, only to tell me that the gate was closed. Which means, "you'll have to take another flight to another airport that is 175 miles from home, and then, wait there until you're able to inconvenience some friend or family member into picking you up and taking you home. Have a nice day." But I digress.
My friend contends that he was singled out amoung the hundreds of passengers in a hurry to make their flight, because he was...and I kid you not...a Boston Red Sox fan. Pay attention now. This is important. Unless you like the intense anxiety that accompanies an extensive and time consuming search of your carry on luggage, then choose you're sports apparel carefully. For you see, just as my friend cleared the body scanner, a TSA official, with a very thick Bronx accent, instructed him to "please step to da side." After a lengthy Q&A regarding the innocuous contents of the back pack, the TSA guy says, "Hey, how 'bout dem Red Sox?" Completely unaware that the baseball cap he was wearing was implicating him in some sort of plot to demean all of New York, (the city that had been attacked by the Muslim hordes) my friend innocently replied, "Yea, we had a great weekend." Wrong answer. Boston, although not in the pennant race, had won 3 out of a 4 games series in Boston. Upon uttering these words, the guy from da Bronx proceeds to swab every square inch of the back pack and its entire contents. Its during moments like these that you realize, time is not a constant; only an illusion, subject to the whims of our emotions. Seconds can become eons in the time-space continuum, when we travel within the margin of a short layover. My friend made his connecting flight. But only after this Klingon had sufficiently toyed with him long enough to compensate for his home team's inadequacy.
Sports fans beware. Do not come into Miami International wearing a Buffalo Bills Jersey. It is a bilingual black hole, that only the brave or the ignorant would approach in such attire.
Happy Trails.
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1 comment:
Hanione's still here and reading!
I hate airport security because I always get nervous, even though I'm not a terrorist. I fret that something I've packed will look like the wrong thing under the scanner. Will I look nervous and thereby attract suspicion? Should I make eye contact with the TSA official as I pass through the metal detector? Should I smile or not? Do I thank him for not detaining me? Should I say Merry Christmas or Happy Kwanza?
When I'm finally through security and passing through the poking/prodding/swabbing area, I notice that they seem to have stopped mostly fat, middle-aged, white guys and a few feeble old ladies. I laugh at myself for worrying about the process and run off to catch my plane. Dontcha just love air travel?
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