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Targeting Terrorists (Vol. 5, No. 2)

The first news story floating out of the television in my hotel room was a little disconcerting.

Considering the fact that I had just flown halfway across the country, I didn’t want to hear that some folks up in Washington, D.C. were being critical of the Department of Homeland Security.  In particular, I didn’t want to hear that the good people out at the airport – the security screeners – were not doing their jobs.

I found that hard to believe, given the fact that the baggage police in Abilene always unzip every single zipper in my checked baggage and wipe everything I own with that little explosives-detecting piece of paper or cloth.  Also hard to believe when I am “randomly” chosen to be one of those who is personally scanned for metal devices after I have already successfully negotiated the Acme Major Metal Device Detector just moments before.  In those intimate exchanges, the always polite screener and I rediscover that (1) I have a metal belt buckle and (2) most of my pants have a metal clasp at an important juncture. 

I do appreciate the fact that they allow me to stand in front of a glass partition where I can watch the rest of my possessions lay unprotected where any of my fellow travelers can pick them up.  And that my fellow travelers can also watch through that same transparent divider as I prove to the screener that there is a metal clasp at an important juncture of my pants.

Yet, I’m not complaining.  I’m more than willing to sacrifice a little convenience and suffer a little larger dose of embarrassment to keep our nation safe.

On the last two flights I’ve taken, I’ve also noticed that there is a new announcement early in the flight.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remember that the lavatory located in the first class cabin is for first class passengers only.  Travelers sitting in coach are asked to use the lavatories at the rear of the aircraft.”

I figured that the first class travelers had been complaining.  Or maybe that some of them had been asking questions like, “Explain to me again – aside from the slightly larger seats and a better flight-attendant-to-flyer ratio – why it costs twice as much to fly in first class?”  So obviously, the airline has to capitalize on the bathroom facilities.

“That’s right, Mr. or Ms. First Class.  You have the honor of sharing an undersized toilet in a miniscule closet with only nineteen other people.  And more importantly, you don’t have to worry about being infected by the unwashed masses at the back of the plane.  We’ll keep them in their places”

On this last flight to Los Angeles, with the aisles to the back blocked by the serving carts, one of my fellow coach travelers chose her moment and bolted for the first class lavatory.  She was safely inside with the door locked before the flight attendant caught up.  But, oh, did she receive a glare on her trip back to her seat. 

Gaining confidence from her foray, another female flyer charged the citadel.  Sadly, she was caught and sent packing to the back of the plane.  As she emerged shame-faced from first class, the incredulous voice of the attendant boomed forth.  “Ladies and gentlemen, let me remind our coach passengers that the first class lavatory is for first class passengers only.  THIS IS A FEDERAL REGULATION INVOLVING THE SECURITY OF THIS AIRCRAFT.  Please comply.”

Well, now I can see why this is so important.  You don’t want potential terrorists sashaying up to the front of the plane where the pilots are.  And, of course, everyone knows that any self-respecting terrorist would only fly coach.  After all, they have no fear of losing their lives.  Thus, they have no fear of flying coach with a tough cookie like me who has to have his baggage screened and his person searched before I passing through security.

I do understand the need for security.  And I happen to be a big fan of Homeland Security.  And I understand that security measures must, of necessity, follow some process.  I suppose that it just saddens me that those measures often call for people to be segregated and judged on artificial standards.

We don’t just do that on airplanes, do we?  We do it in schools and businesses and even our churches.  Sometimes those we target to exclude are those who most need inclusion.  And most of the time our judgments are on equally artificial standards.

Have you got someone targeted right now?   

Shine On!

Copyright 2005 Joe L. Cope