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June 30, 2006
Profiling
During my recent travels to and from New Jersey I fear I fell victim to profiling.
At security in Port Columbus I was asked to step aside as I'd forgotten to remove my PC from its bag and place it in its own tub for scanning. This led to a delay of a couple of minutes as the cute, young security gal escorted me to a specially roped-off area for further scrutiny. The delay, like I said, was just for a few minutes and the time lost was easily offset by the young and cute of the security gal. And, face it, there's something about women in uniform.
On the way back I was hip to the game the man was playing and had my notebook, camera and PDA out of their cases and in the appropriate tubs. My shoes were off, as they'd been before, my belt was off, my keys were in a tub, my pockets were empty and I'd removed my Prince Albert and ear lugs. Still, I set the metal detector off -- twice -- when I went through it and had to step aside for further wanding.
The jean shorts I had on had enough rivets in them that they set off the metal detector. These were rivets that were invisible to the naked eye and hidden somewhere in the fabric.
The worse things about these jeans was that I'd put them on only to demonstrate to my buddy's daughter that I'd actually brought several pair of shorts with me. For the first three days of my visit I'd been wearing the same shorts. I'm a guy ... it isn't like I was running a marathon in them. Even though I'd taken four pair of shorts with me I sort of like to see how much stuff I could have gotten by without -- not that I'll ever not pack a pair of shorts per day when I travel (if it is shorts season) ... it's just a contest I play with myself. I know some of you understand.
Anyway. My buddy's daughter is a teenager and I know I fall into her dad's (who is an old man by her standards) old-man-buddy category. For some reason it bothered me that she might think that her dad's friends might wear the same shorts day after day. Then she'd tell her friends that her dad had gross friends. See -- it wasn't about me -- it was about my buddy. And, of course, older people always smell like cheese to younger people ... so there'd be that.
Which led to the strip search.
Fortunately, The Man, had second thoughts and just did the wand thing again. Maybe the cheese smell put him off.
The flight that that security check went with was canceled.
The next morning I arrived at the airport several hours early. The line through the security checkpoint was way, way long. It was a good thing I was early.
I showed the first security agent my ticket and ID. She told me to step aside. Since my flight had been canceled the day before, I had to go through the special super-duper security check.
And this is where The Man slipped up. The special super-duper security check had no line. I was in and out in just a minute ... it reminded me, in so many ways, of my honeymoon.
And there it is. Three out of the three times I went through security I was taken aside for extra security scrutiny.
Coincidence? I can't imagine.
Profiling? It has to be.
But why? Why me?
I assumed it had something to do with the fact that I am obviously a buffoon and that while a buffoon would never do anything on purpose to cause anyone a problem he could possibly do something accidentally. I dismissed this idea due to the fact that if it were true Dubya would never make it down a runway and that guy flies all the time.
As I thought it over I finally hit upon the idea that I am the anti-terrorist profilee. I am a big, white, clueless-looking guy. Clean shaven. Polite. Nice ass. I am the guy that is going to be pulled aside time after time to demonstrate to the place minority here, place facial-hair affectation here, scary looking, with the place not-so-nice comment here assed man/woman that they are not being singled out for any reason other than mere randomness.
I imagine when the scary looking people get home they'll have conversations like this:
Scary-looking Person: Well, I got pulled aside at the airport security check again. Only wanded this time. Not the cavity search.
His/Her Buddy: Do you think it was because of your skin color and poor facial-hair choice.
SLP: No. They had some big, white, clean-shaven, goofy-looking buffoon pulled aside too.
HHB: I thought he always flew on Air Force One.
SLP: Different buffoon. Besides, any plane he boards is technically Air Force One.
HHP: Really?! Could you hand me that detonator?
SLP: Really ... Here you go. Be careful.
Posted by delmer at June 30, 2006 7:15 AM
Comments
Delbert,
Could it be they are profiling your calves? Just a thought. You have to admit, they appear to be concealing something explosive or powerful. I would suggest wearing loose/baggy long pants when going through airport security. That way you won't draw attention to your calves or to your ass.
Posted by: Darrell at July 1, 2006 9:21 AM
I had not considered the calves as security threats, but you make a point.
And with the vericose vein running down the one it certainly looks as if I may have a length of pilot-choking cable concealed.
Posted by: delmer at July 1, 2006 11:08 PM
Ever thought it's because you are tall?
My husband SWEARS that he always gets pulled aside because he's tall. I've never heard ot errorists being especially tall. But then, he also says he got his job because he's tall, that I married him because he's tall (that one has merit) and that little kids like him because he's tall. Oh, and then there's that whole "I can't aim straight at the toilet because I'm tall". THAT one is jsut an excuse for laziness. I hate that one.
I SWEAR I get pulled aside because I'm cute (and tall). I always get stopped.
It's the tallness and the cuteness that gets you pulled aside...and the cheese. You are totally hosed. Always wear clean underwear in preparation for the strip search.
Posted by: karla at July 4, 2006 9:53 AM
My ex-wife used to say she married me because I was tall and that I could get things down from the high shelf.
Years later she would realize I could be replaced by a step ladder ... and that a step ladder didn't leave a mess on the floor around the toilet.
Posted by: delmer at July 4, 2006 2:01 PM