Airport experience a reminder of the frailty of life

I arrived at the airport about 4 hours prior to my 2 AM flight. It turns out I would need a good 45 minutes of those 4 hours to finally get to my gate with nothing to show for it but humiliation, cluelessness and absolute banality.

I went through the usual routine: hand the passport and boarding pass to the guy to scan, give a polite hello, mostly out of pity for his fate. Then take off your shoes, belt, all belongings, place laptop and iPad in separate bins (4 total) then get scanned by the cancer-inducing monstrosity that supposedly checks for god-knows-what, then put your shoes on, put your belt on, put your stuff away and you get on with life and try to forget that you’ve just been violated in a most awful fashion.

This time however, I was not so fortunate. As I was walking out of the scanner, something in the area of my back pocket “triggered” the “detector” which by TSA protocol, requires further “inspection.” The following conversation with the TSA employee ensued:

“Do you have anything in your back pocket?”

“No.”

“Please face that way.” (away from him)

I face “that way.”

“Face in the direction I told you.” (Roughly 10 degrees further to the right. Those were his exact words.)

I turn a little bit more, a bit annoyed that I hadn’t satisfied his rather rude demand.

“Put your hands to your sides, palms up.” (The courtesy of saying ‘please’ has evidently run its course.)

He then asked if I would like a private screening. I declined. I should have taken him up on his offer. He felt me up in full view of everyone watching.

He then wiped a thin paper strip on my hands, after which the agents took my stuff to the side and proceeded to empty all of my bags of its contents. Shirts, underwear, shoes, laptop, iPad, microphones…

A different employee was looking through my stuff when he came upon my trumpet mouthpiece.

“Is this a flashlight?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What is it.”

“It’s a trumpet mouthpiece.”

“Oh.”

More rummaging through my stuff.

I then asked him, “What exactly is the problem?”

“Your hands triggered the detector and we have to make sure everything is clear before you can safely travel to your destination.”

“Oh.”

Ten minutes later, they take all my stuff and I’m ordered to follow them to the private screening room. My request will be granted after all.

We waited another 5 minutes and then yet another employee entered the room, explained exactly what parts of me he would be touching and how he would be touching them. He did his business, then left the room. I asked the employee, “What exactly is the problem?”

“I was going to ask you.”

“He said something about my back pocket,” to which he shrugged his shoulders.

The final employee again entered the room, asked to see the bottoms of my feet, then I was free to go.

There was no apology, no acknowledgment of the time that had been wasted for no reason, nor of the dehumanizing experience I had just endured.

I was in the Army for almost 12 years, so I know the mentality well. The employees with whom I interacted had no idea why they were doing what they were doing, they were just following orders. In their view, they are the drill sergeants of the airport. I was the poor private who had the misfortune of being assigned to their basic training cycle.

This goes far beyond mere inconvenience. It is a mentality which we all must confront and overcome if we want to live a happy and fulfilling life. Any inclination those employees have towards human dignity has long been quashed by “practical” thinking: just endure it to provide for your family. Some of them are pure sadists who secretly derive pleasure watching people endure this degrading experience. Any courtesy they show to the poor private passengers is because they are told to do so. Many of them would act like R. Lee Ermey’s “Gunny” character in Full Metal Jacket if they thought they could get away with it.

A few decent people do take the job, then quit because, well, they’re decent people.

We all have a choice: Live a free and happy life, being conscientious towards the freedom and happiness of others, or numb our consciences towards those out of a sense of practicality, to simply survive. I know my choice, and the experience I’ve just described can’t take it away from me.”