Unquestionably, the world after 9/11 changed for all time. No sector felt the effects of the horrifying terrorist-perpetrated carnage than the aviation industry. In its immediate aftermath air travel became a humiliating nightmare for everyone. Gone were the days when flying was relaxing, when checking in for your flight took just 20 minutes and your biggest concern when boarding a flight was being seated next to a morbidly obese guy who snored while he slept.
Now with US President Donald Trump’s travel ban diktat on seven Islamic nations one wonders whether voyagers will face far worse security nightmares than staring back at the immediate wake of 9/11. The airlines, because of their security lapses, had devised intrusive and humiliating measures to counter the terrorist threat. I have had my fair share of mortifying run-ins with airport security, immigration, customs officials and ground crews during that era.
Besides, I must concede that I hate flying. Yes, I like terra firma best. And the more firma, the less terra, or rather running the gauntlet of security terror. Now with security checks bound to get more stringent I thought I’d share some of my tips on do’s and don’ts to help make your next flying experience as smooth and stress-free as possible.
The first don’t is: Do not look like a terrorist. Now you may ask, what does a terrorist look like? Well, I cannot tell you for sure, but suffice to say if you do look like one you will be searched and interrogated. Therefore, always make sure you are abreast of the newest fashion trend for seasoned terrorists and then avoid wearing that! Also remember that as far as the fads go it isn’t a ‘beardyful’ world anymore for security morons. Designer fungus is not looked upon as appropriate for travellers.
Apparently most airport security don’t have a sense of humour. You can get into a lot of trouble for making jokes. Personally, I think they should lighten up.
Logically, a terrorist or a drug smuggler would be as quiet as a church mouse. Only those who are innocent would feel comfortable and safe enough to crack jokes. But I have actually seen signs that read: ‘Airport security does not have a sense of humour. Jokes about terrorism, bombs, smuggling, etc… are considered a federal offence.’ Seems like a violation of my freedom of speech if you ask me. Ok. Ok, as they say carry your credit card with you but leave the jokes at home.
It all starts when you get to the airport and have to check in. Then the security heavies begin playing Merlin the magician. They begin by giving you a generous helping of the magic wand treatment with the usual metal detectors brandished all over you with ritualistic fervour. If there is so much as a beep they resort to the rough and vigorous patting down which I construe is a legalised invasion of my privacy as well as criminal molestation. It is part of a security technique which they say is necessary for your own safety. Nonetheless, it is a system which by any civilised legal definition is perverse and flawed.
Yes I do get fidgety and denounce the whole procedure, particularly the intimate groping with venomous distaste. How can one not remain finicky when meddlesome male fingers begin feeling you up where the hand of man has never ventured. Anyone who disagrees is a homo sapien of the deviant order who would be deliriously humming, “Life is so good, Life is so gay,’ while he is being groped in the most intimate places. One thing most normal people must stop saying when being frisked at airports is: “Ooh, that feels nice!”
Speaking for myself, if the groping wasn’t legalised the ‘feeler-upper’ would certainly have found himself writhing on the floor in gruesome contortions of agony while clutching at his groin and jaw. It does not seem logical that I am being searched for objects interpreted as dangerous for my own safety. Now I have to undergo the humiliating inference that I could plot to kill my fellow passengers with safety pins, keys, finger nail clippers, shaving kits and other potential deadly weapons that we carry thoughtlessly concealed in our toilet bags. The airport has no place for a sense of humour. If you think you are a stand-up comedian please make sure you stay very far away from me when checking in at the airport or going through customs.
We are all chosen for the random shoe search, I self-consciously grinned to myself at the feeling of nakedness at having my shoes off before other passengers. I felt proud that my socks had no holes. Sock it to me, baby, I thought as I held my feet up for inspection even though I have no idea what could be secreted in my socks that can bring down an airplane.
They checked the 25 copies of my satire book, making sure I was no terrorist propagandist. When finally cleared of suspicion I turned back and smugly told them: “These aren’t weapons of mass destruction, just words of mass deception!” Then I got out of range before their paralysed brains could react.
Anyone who is familiar with travel will realise that belt removal is a bit of a random requirement. But if some of us do as we are told, let your trousers fall down and let them deal with the fall out. The security bloke asks me to put my arms up so I can be searched. I politely point out I can either stretch my left arm up, or the right arm as the other is holding my trousers up.
I don’t want to expose my Superman underwear to the flying public now do I? And what if I happened to be one among those who prefers to divest himself of all unnecessary underclothes? Okay so the entire flying public with its pants down must go through the security screening without so much as making a peep.
Actually on my last visit to the Land of Uncle Sam I bought a set of colourful unmentionables that are reserved for travel. With such weapons of theatrical production I will be able to avoid being suspected of a being purveyor of weapons of mass destruction. I also hope and pray that I will be subjected to a strip search. No I am not an exhibitionist. But the words boldly emblazoned on the unmentionables read: “God Bless America!”
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