Sitting in the Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood Airport, having just had my first TSA pat-down, I can’t help but dream of the days of civilized air travel. As we traveled through Turkey this summer, I was struck by how uncivilized the whole process has become here in the US. As we enter an American airport, I have the sense that we are all assumed to be criminals. We must strip, taking off sweaters, belts, shoes, jewelry. We have to pull out the contents of our bags and empty our water bottles, all for the farce that is “security theater.” I have no faith, none at all, that this is keeping me and my kids safe in the “friendly skies”. Truth be told, I fear more the about the maintenance and potential mechanical failures of our aging fleet of airliners than I do terrorists carrying water bottles. I do believe that there are threats. But the processes currently used a TSA security checkpoints are not the ones that are protecting us.
A couple of months back, when the TSA rolled out the newest measures and my mother had her first encounter with the “enhanced pat-down”, we were all upset. Her first “enhanced” pat-downs (she gets one every time she flies due to her artificial hip) was not a light pat-down. She was frisked, groped and humiliated by the procedure. We protested, writing letters, commenting online, contacting journalists, making our stance be known. With no warning, the TSA hasd crossed a serious line taking away our civil liberties. People may argue that since “flying isn’t a right”, I have not had my rights taken away. I disagree. The second I enter TSA security, I am presumed guilty, not presumed innocent. Just for having dared purchase a ticket on a plane, despite no criminal history, I am presumed guilty. I have no right to back out of the process, to question the process, to be clearly told everything that is going to be done. I have no rights. I cannot appeal. I am at the mercy of poorly trained, misguided and perhaps power-hungry minions. (Granted, not all TSA employees are this way, but I have no way of doing my own background check or research in choosing whose hands to place myself and my children in). The airport is a police state run by, at times, morons. Even when one encounters knowledgable, friendly, efficient TSA personnel, the whole process is uncivilized and, at times, makes me feel unsafe So much energy spent in looking at my shoes; who is doing the job of catching the true threats?
And, today, I had my first pat-down. My backpack, for some reason or another, caused alarm at security today. Multiple swab tests, completely unpacked, every pocket searched. Because of this raised alarm, I was subjected to a pat-down. A female TSA agent asked me to follow her. I picked up my computers (yes, I travel with two computers), and she told me to put them down. Since I had no intention of leaving my computers unattended. I replied that I would not leave my computers there on the stack of empty buckets where anyone could pick them up, but that I would hand them to my husband. She then described how the pat-down would go — surprisingly, back of hands on sensitive areas. She then asked if I was comfortable with that, or if I prefer to go into a private screening area. I told her I was not comfortable with such an invasion anywhere, but going in a private area was not going to make me feel any more comfortable about her touching me. Honestly, I’d rather have her do the pat-down done in front of everyone so as to have an audience in case things didn’t go as I would like.
She was gentle. She didn’t put her hands in my waistband, under my breasts or down my bra. She used the back of her hands on all “privates”. She noted there was something in my pocket and asked to see it — my boarding pass and picture ID. This was NOTHING like the pat-downs that had been described by my mother and countless others back in November. The TSA had very publicly stated that they would not stop the groping, but I’ve been hearing fewer of the “don’t touch my junk” stories as time goes by. Apparently, they have backed down and saved face by not publicly admitting that they have done so.
How I dream of the days when air travel was civilized.
This is an entry for Mondays are For Dreaming at Mother of All Trips.
