We flew to Washington DC
As we had to fly back home a few days post-Umar, we arrived at the airport early, expecting the usual after-the-fact-and-useless heightened and cumbersome security checks. Whether security was heightened or not, getting through it was fairly easy and quick. The lines were short and we got through in 6 minutes flat; I timed it. As experienced traveling cattle that we have become, we did a lot in those six minutes. Curtis removed his computer from his back pack, placed computer together with pack on the conveyor belt leading to the radiation chamber where they check for something, I’m not quite sure what (more about that below)... He then placed his guitar on the belt, removed his shoes, removed his watch, took the change, car keys and wallet out of his pocket, walked barefoot through the metal detector and started retrieving his crap on the other side. I followed by removing my coat, removing my scarf, taking off my shoes, and putting everything on the conveyor belt together with my heavy backpack. I however forgot to take off my hat when walking through the metal detector. I was told to take it off and walk through it once more. I did as told.
Just when I thought the nonsense was over, I was ordered to enter the full body scanner. Perhaps I was chosen for this fun ride because I had tried to get through the metal detector with my hat on, or maybe it was my bulky sweater, or maybe I just look like a Muslim male terrorist disguised as a tiny Jewish woman. No, that would imply that they give some thought to whom should and should not be full-body scanned. That would smell like profiling, and we can't have any of that in these here politically correct times. It's best, though obviously not safer, to waste everybody’s time and money by inventing more and more sophisticated mouse traps through which the mice still pass precisely because we don’t want to offend our terrorist brethren and the people who support them....
Anyway, the full body scan was quick and painless, and oh-so-cool! I love tools; and as soon as I came out, I wanted to see how it worked, no doubt freaking out security even more. I retrieved my crap from the conveyor belt, put on my shoes, put on my coat, put on my scarf, and waited for Curtis to finish dressing himself. We walked into the terminal where our flight was on time. A seasonal miracle if ever I saw one, almost on the order of baby Jesus himself!
On the day after our arrival home, Curt and I went out to shop for food. As he was driving and I needed a pen to write something down, I stuck my hand into my purse only to get stabbed by an etching needle I had forgotten I had stowed away in there when one of my students had returned it at a different time than when I had collected them from the rest of the class. Etching needles are a good 6.5 inches long, made of hardened steel, extremely sharp, and can easily be inserted through somebody’s ear only to come out cleanly on the other side. In fact, they are sharp and hard enough to be inserted easily into any body part with unpleasant consequences.
For the longest time my work back-pack was also my travel pack; and before 9/11, I used to carry at least 3 needles with me every time I flew. I am printmaker and they are tools of the trade, tools I never remove from my work pack. The inefficient rigmarole one has to go through these days to get into an airplane, and which I describe above, started after 9/11 when 19 almost-all-Saudi Muslim Extremist Men high jacked four airliners with the use of simple box cutters; tools I also used to carry onto planes together with my etching needles, since they too are used in the printmaking trade. The effete etching needle doesn't look as threatening as a box-cutter, but if used "correctly" and with forethought it can rival any box-cutter in degree of lethality.
As we had to fly back home a few days post-Umar, we arrived at the airport early, expecting the usual after-the-fact-and-useless heightened and cumbersome security checks. Whether security was heightened or not, getting through it was fairly easy and quick. The lines were short and we got through in 6 minutes flat; I timed it. As experienced traveling cattle that we have become, we did a lot in those six minutes. Curtis removed his computer from his back pack, placed computer together with pack on the conveyor belt leading to the radiation chamber where they check for something, I’m not quite sure what (more about that below)... He then placed his guitar on the belt, removed his shoes, removed his watch, took the change, car keys and wallet out of his pocket, walked barefoot through the metal detector and started retrieving his crap on the other side. I followed by removing my coat, removing my scarf, taking off my shoes, and putting everything on the conveyor belt together with my heavy backpack. I however forgot to take off my hat when walking through the metal detector. I was told to take it off and walk through it once more. I did as told.
Just when I thought the nonsense was over, I was ordered to enter the full body scanner. Perhaps I was chosen for this fun ride because I had tried to get through the metal detector with my hat on, or maybe it was my bulky sweater, or maybe I just look like a Muslim male terrorist disguised as a tiny Jewish woman. No, that would imply that they give some thought to whom should and should not be full-body scanned. That would smell like profiling, and we can't have any of that in these here politically correct times. It's best, though obviously not safer, to waste everybody’s time and money by inventing more and more sophisticated mouse traps through which the mice still pass precisely because we don’t want to offend our terrorist brethren and the people who support them....
Anyway, the full body scan was quick and painless, and oh-so-cool! I love tools; and as soon as I came out, I wanted to see how it worked, no doubt freaking out security even more. I retrieved my crap from the conveyor belt, put on my shoes, put on my coat, put on my scarf, and waited for Curtis to finish dressing himself. We walked into the terminal where our flight was on time. A seasonal miracle if ever I saw one, almost on the order of baby Jesus himself!
On the day after our arrival home, Curt and I went out to shop for food. As he was driving and I needed a pen to write something down, I stuck my hand into my purse only to get stabbed by an etching needle I had forgotten I had stowed away in there when one of my students had returned it at a different time than when I had collected them from the rest of the class. Etching needles are a good 6.5 inches long, made of hardened steel, extremely sharp, and can easily be inserted through somebody’s ear only to come out cleanly on the other side. In fact, they are sharp and hard enough to be inserted easily into any body part with unpleasant consequences.
For the longest time my work back-pack was also my travel pack; and before 9/11, I used to carry at least 3 needles with me every time I flew. I am printmaker and they are tools of the trade, tools I never remove from my work pack. The inefficient rigmarole one has to go through these days to get into an airplane, and which I describe above, started after 9/11 when 19 almost-all-Saudi Muslim Extremist Men high jacked four airliners with the use of simple box cutters; tools I also used to carry onto planes together with my etching needles, since they too are used in the printmaking trade. The effete etching needle doesn't look as threatening as a box-cutter, but if used "correctly" and with forethought it can rival any box-cutter in degree of lethality.
Since 9/11, I have tried to be a compliant little traveler and have left all my art tools behind when traveling. So imagine my surprise at realizing that I had unintentionally taken an etching needle with me onto two planes and had not been stopped for it! There is no way this piece of steel did not show up on the x-ray scanner in both airports. Is TSA really that incompetent and unimaginative, or did they actually profile me and figure I was not out to stab anybody this Christmas season? Given Umar's loaded underwear, perhaps the former...
