Monday, April 25, 2005
I'm the guy they're after
Apparently I have a look about me that just screams "danger". When in reality, "Danger"'s my middle name. I have flown out of The Hartsfield-Douglas International Airport (Atlanta) twice in the past two weeks. Both times, I have arrived at the airport at the same time, wearing almost the same clothing. In essence, I have not altered any patterns or done anything, I thought, to arouse any suspicions.
But low and behold, something about my mild-mannered appearance says, "hey, maybe we should stop this guy and see if he's got and contraband". I was singled out, both times, for the old metal detector walk through, metal detector wand over, and pat down by a man wearing rubber gloves and grinning inappropriately. And the first question that is asked of me is "do you have a lighter?".
Do I have a lighter?
Under normal circumstances, I would have had to answer in the affirmative. But luckily for me I had heard about the ban on lighters the FAA deemed necessary. So my only answer out loud was "negatory, good buddy, I done heard you folks weren't allowing lighters onto planes these days".
But in my mind I was saying "you can have my lighter when you pry it from my cold dead hands".
Shouldn't we be concentrating more on the gas powered weed eater or maybe even the more undetectable ceramic knives?
What am I gonna do? Set the seats of the plane ablaze and demand that they turn the plane around and head to Aruba?
Unfortunately for me, I also have the same problem with State Highway Patrol Officers. They take one look at me in my khaki pants and golf shirt and decide that they need back-up, calling for the drug sniffing dogs to search my vehicle. But that's a different story altogether. ¶ 9:37 PM
But low and behold, something about my mild-mannered appearance says, "hey, maybe we should stop this guy and see if he's got and contraband". I was singled out, both times, for the old metal detector walk through, metal detector wand over, and pat down by a man wearing rubber gloves and grinning inappropriately. And the first question that is asked of me is "do you have a lighter?".
Do I have a lighter?
Under normal circumstances, I would have had to answer in the affirmative. But luckily for me I had heard about the ban on lighters the FAA deemed necessary. So my only answer out loud was "negatory, good buddy, I done heard you folks weren't allowing lighters onto planes these days".
But in my mind I was saying "you can have my lighter when you pry it from my cold dead hands".
Shouldn't we be concentrating more on the gas powered weed eater or maybe even the more undetectable ceramic knives?
What am I gonna do? Set the seats of the plane ablaze and demand that they turn the plane around and head to Aruba?
Unfortunately for me, I also have the same problem with State Highway Patrol Officers. They take one look at me in my khaki pants and golf shirt and decide that they need back-up, calling for the drug sniffing dogs to search my vehicle. But that's a different story altogether. ¶ 9:37 PM
