I'm sick to my stomach, but dramamine won't help.
I've been flying -- too much. The new obstacle course facing the American public, a.k.a. "airport security," has me pining for bygone days.
Am I the only one who feels we've gone nuts? Not only are we reacting only to the last terrorist attack, we're not even doing that effectively. All we're doing is transforming, perhaps permanently, the old America to a new society that bears little resemblance to the one for which our veterans fought so bravely and died.
New baggage procedures ensure that passengers and their luggage are both on the plane. That's because no passenger would knowingly blow up himself or herself, right? I think September 11 disproved that assertion. Yet the procedures stand.
Small pocket knives and nail clippers are prohibited. Daytona Beach airport security wouldn't let me carry on a money clip that doubles as a golf ball mark repair tool. Yet car keys, which have the same puncture power as all of the above, are OK. Security specialists probably would ban them if they had their druthers, thus making taxicab owners and drivers instant multi-millionaires, for flyers would not be able to drive themselves to the airport. As it is, huge numbers of parking spaces are now vacant because of proximity to the terminal. Why not go whole-hog and ban the lot of them? Environmentalists take note: it'll reduce air pollution.
When I fly to Washington, D.C., which is frequent, I usually use the Baltimore Washington International facility because of cost and convenience. But BWI now is more congested that the Belt Parkway and Washington Beltway at rush hour. It's not unusual to see 200-yard passenger lines at the ticket counters, and half that at the actual security entrances.
As an alternative this last time, I flew out of Washington Reagan National because flights have been so curtailed. I figured that my exit would be more easy and civilized. I was right and feeling pretty smug -- until we were airborne.
Because my flight originated from Washington, passengers had to remain seated for 30 minutes after take-off. Also, anyone wishing to use the fore lavatories had to wait behind the first-class cabin screen because loitering was prohibited near the now steel-reinforced cockpit door.
No doubt I'm crazier than brave or sensible, but I'm convinced that the cumulative effect of these efforts is virtually meaningless, unless we count causing delays and headaches to the 99.99% of the flying public who are safe and sound users of flying machines. Our deviously barbaric and insane terrorist foils are undoubtedly having a good ol' time gloating over how they've changed America. We now believe, incorrectly, that we're protected from another 9-11-like attack. Does anyone really believe that one is on the drawing boards?
These twisted miscreants are sitting around devising more ghastly acts which, like September 11, we simply can't imagine or foretell. New attacks will recur because of terrorists' sick ingenuity. We'll then react to fight that attack, after the fact. They'll counter with something else diabolical, and we'll adjust again. Our enemies will be rolling on the ground with glee about how they've turned us into hapless marionettes on strings which they alone jerk and twitch at will.
Prudence is one thing. Poverty of action is another. Assaults on terrorists worldwide have some chance of success. Setting up embarrassing and draconian airport security precautions don't.
Without question, I'm a lone voice in the wilderness. Countless TV interviewees profess that they don't mind inconvenience if it makes flying safer. I don't buy that the cost being borne is worth the marginal improvement in safety, if, in fact, any improvement really occurs other than in peoples' psyches.
When I put our American ideals on one side of the big balancing scale of liberty and security practices on the other, America is left hanging, high in the air, unable to counterbalance this oppressive weight.
God bless America, wherever she may have gone.
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Approximately 660 words.
Fred W. Apelquist, III, M. Ed.
© 2001