Security

A few years ago, I refused to go through the full body scanner at the airport. The TSA agent was notably surprised. No one was happy, least of all me, but I thought, I’ll be damed if I’m going to submit myself to this injustice. Little did I know, the TSA agent would make a mockery of both of us. He pat me down as though I was entering a high security prison. With the unreasonable amount of time he took on one of my arms, I knew it was his intent to make me regret my decision. I was surprised how far he took this. Slowly and methodically, he went over every square inch of my body. With my legs spread and my fellow Americans staring, the TSA agent pushed my left testicle to the side pushing his hands up into my groin. His fingers between my scrotum and inner thigh. Upset, I looked him in the eyes and bitterly asked him if he was enjoying himself. Flustered and irritated, he glared at me.
My guess is he was in his fifties.
I wondered how he saw himself?
I’m sure I wasn’t the first to refuse to be scanned.
Was he a supervisor showing his agents how to handle the uppity?
Could it be he was just as uncomfortable as me?
Or was he on his own power trip?
As more of my fellow Americans submitted to the injustice of exposing themselves one by one, I stood there as he went slowly up my right leg to the point he touched, what under no circumstance, he should be allowed to touch. Pushing it aside, he again slid his hand firmly into my groin. I again growled, “Are you enjoying yourself! This is bullshit! I hope you are proud of yourself!”
As I attempted to make a mockery of all of this, they made a mockery of me.
I was prominently displayed and publicly fondled.
I was clearly made an example of.
When it was all done, I was beyond furious. The gritty charge of adrenaline pulsed through my body. I swore I’d never submit, but one extremely drawn-out public fondling was all it took.
A public fondling the TSA refer to as an “extensive pat-down.”
Today, I bitterly exposed myself, for the umpteenth time, for the theater we call security.
I assume that TSA agents saw all my dangly bits.
My wife went through first, exposing herself.
Who gets that job?
What are their credentials?
Presumably, they saw through all of her clothing.
My beautiful wife, who has handled herself with such dignity.
Exposed.
Curiously, they pulled her aside and said they needed to pat down her shoulders, why!?
With multiple lines merging, my wife and I were separated. Not paying much attention, I did notice the woman in front of me was pat down after her scan as well. I didn’t think about it until they told me they needed to pat down my legs after I went through the scanner.
Annoyed, I found myself spread eagle again.
Didn’t they just see through my clothing?
Isn’t that the point?
Didn’t they see my legs and everything in between?
I asked the agent, “What are you looking for?” He didn’t respond. I asked, “Did the scanner see the steel rods in my legs?” He nodded and chuckled and said, “Ya.”
There are no steel rods in my legs.
What’s the point of all of this?
What’s the point of all of us standing spread eagle with our hands in the air, in a machine that can see through our clothing, if they are only going to further grope us?
What was the point of making a public mockery of me if the scanner I refused to use doesn’t even provide them the information they need?
When I have traveled with my baby recently, the agents have taken us out of the scanner line and brought us through the metal detector. No “extensive pat-downs” for budding families. It would appear they are reserved for those with the bravado to demand their rights not be violated.
Unfortunately, the irony is all too clear.
I knew a twenty-something who was a baggage handler. He told me he could have put anything he wanted into the cargo hold of a plane.
Anything!
He assured me the security was just as lax for all of the baggage handlers.
Aside from his background check when he got the job, he could come and go from his breaks to Taco Bell and Super America, unmonitored.
That’s an interesting contradiction, isn’t it?
Upstairs in the theater of perceived security, I have my shoes off, my belt off, and my pockets are empty as I walk past garbage cans filled with water bottles and other bits of naughty paraphernalia.
All in preparation to pose with my legs spread wide.

I flew to Mexico. It was on my way home that a TSA agent found a 4oz bottle of sunscreen in my bag. There was just shy of an ounce left after my beach vacation. Throwing logic out the window, he reprimanded me and threw away the remaining sunscreen. As he threw it away, I condescendingly reminded him that the other agents had failed to find the sunscreen the other three times I passed through security.
To that point, every time I fly, I break the rules.
I don’t use plastic baggies.
I bring too much liquid.
I know I’m being contentious.
I also know my shampoo isn’t the reason they put these bans into effect.
Maybe it’s not my place to test them?
But I find it curious that their enforcement is so ineffective.
I don’t know what the exact number is, but since 9/11, I’ve likely gone through TSA security over a hundred times.
They have only caught me once, with a nearly empty bottle!
This is beyond a coincidence.
In fact, I inadvertently flew with a pocket knife in my carry-on about six months ago. I didn’t figure it out until I had unpacked my bags.
This all brings home the uncomfortable reality that any notion of security is an illusion.
It seems the role of the TSA is that of the director.
Ensuring we all know our lines in this masquerade and theatrical performance we call security.
The TSA knows the screening doesn’t work.
With their own self imposed test, they failed to find 95% of the explosives and weapons they attempted to bring through their own checkpoints.
Let that soak in… a 95% failure rate!
They were able to get explosives and weapons through the TSA screening in 67 out of 70 attempts.
The testers, by their own admission didn’t use any advanced techniques to disguise the explosives and weapons. They were acting as untrained civilians. Imagine what the failure rate would be if these same people were trained to evade detection.
Would they fail 100% of the time?
With a failure rate that high and no aviation based terrorist attacks since the establishment of the TSA…
This speaks to an awkward truth.
Reason would suggest they could not have prevented any threats in the first place.
That’s what’s so ridiculous.
They know their organization is a failure.
Yet, they continue to exert their authority suggesting everyone needs to continue to expose themselves.

This is what we have bought into.
A dramatic increase in the price of admission to the security theater.
The price is our dignity and our civil liberty.
This is what the TSA will provide: If you allow federal agents to see through your clothes, they will in turn, assure you that you are safe and secure.
Wink Wink.

The point of this is to further illustrate that our fears are unfounded and security is an illusion.
This is our truth:
We dogmatically adhere to ideas that provide an illusion of security from threats that don’t exist.
In the name of security, we surrender the freedoms that we are fearful of losing to ensure that we maintain the freedom and security we have already given away.
A paradox of our time and culture.

Addendum: Our TSA experience on our way home is worth mentioning.
The first thing the TSA agent said to us as we approached the scanners was, “Today is opposite day. You’re going to do the opposite of everything you normally do. Leave on your shoes and belts. Just put your phone in your carry-on. Leave everything else in your pockets. We are going to see how well you are listening.” Perplexed, my wife and I walked forward, expecting to be ushered towards the body scanner. Instead, we walked right past it into the metal detecter. They sent us all through so quickly that we were all bunching up waiting for our bags to go through the scanner.
TSA agents were scattered about not doing much of anything as far as I could tell. Some of them were chuckling as though they thought this was absurd. If there was any order to what was happening, it wasn’t obvious. For the life of me, I don’t understand what they were doing.
I thought to myself, you just can’t make this stuff up!