Op-Ed: There's a Terrorist in Our Midst (and Apparently it's Me)

We have just returned from over a month’s trip through Portugal, Spain, France, Italy and Germany. Needless to say each country has its own entry security procedures. None were interested in our shoes, the bottoms of our feet, my suspenders nor my CPAP machine (which triggers an immediate swipe in U.S. airports).  They did like to take a look at my small computer, however.

I would like to relate my experiences with our uber-professional Transportation Safety Administration.

We flew out of Oakland to Fort Lauderdale, Fla., and everything was going smoothly — sent my hand luggage, computer and Birks through the X-ray. I was in shorts since we were going to Florida and was wearing an elastic knee brace on my left knee and went through the metal detector with nary a beep.

However the person monitoring the detector pointed to my knee brace and asked, “What is that?” I gave her the answer and told her she was free to examine it if needed. She looked over her shoulder and shouted “Male assist!” and directed me to two yellow footprints on the carpet.

For those who have gone through U.S. Marine Corps boot camp or Officers Candidate School, the yellow footprints on the grinder are ominous indeed.

After placing my bare feet on the footprints, two male TSA employees approached,  and one pointed to the knee brace and asked “What is that?” I responded yet again that it was an elastic knee brace. I was then informed that I must have a full body pat down. I queried as to why that was necessary and was informed that that was the way that it would be – no discussion.

After informing him that I considered the procedure to be extremely humiliating, offensive and degrading, I offered to take the brace off, run it through the X-ray and come through the metal detector again. They said I could do that but would still have to have the pat down. 

So much for compromise. I had been profiled.

At this point you need to know that I am a portly 75-year-old retired Naval officer with bad knees and gray hair.

During the procedure, which is indeed humiliating, offensive and degrading, I continued to voice my displeasure in as pleasant a voice as possible given the circumstances. My wife convinced me to shut up and endure as we were on a tight schedule, which I did, and we continued on our trip.

I was contemplating asking our fearless TSA guardians if I had been wearing long pants what would they have done, but discretion and my wife’s look dissuaded me.

All went smoothly in Europe and it was not until we got back to the USAF base in Ramstein, Germany, where we had to remove our shoes. The suspenders did not cause a problem since I told them that I was wearing them, and a quick swipe with the wand satisfied them. The same happened at Naval Air Station Rota (Spain) as we were boarding a flight home.

After an eight-hour flight to Dover, Del., a four-hour wait while they serviced the airplane and off loaded cargo we were on our way for a three-hour flight to San Antonio. We were rather tired but were able to snag a couple of SWA tickets to Oakland leaving in three hours after we got to Lackland Air Force Base.

So far so good. We checked in the luggage at the curb and proceeded to the security check point. Alas, that's when things immediately went from bad to worse.

I ran my hand-carried luggage, CPAP machine, computer and sneakers through the X-ray and proceeded to the metal detector. It beeped as I went through because of my suspenders. I told the gent monitoring the machine — who had a wand in his hand — that I had suspenders on and showed the clips to him.  He was unmoved and shouted over his shoulder, "Male assist required!"

Being tired and somewhat grumpy, I asked what was the matter with suspenders. He responded in a loud and arrogant voice that he used to work in corrections and that I would be surprised at what suspenders could conceal. I was tempted to say that they helped to conceal what his associates would soon be exploring, but by that time was so incensed that I just shut up.

Profiled again!

The "male assist" person appeared and asked me to show him my possessions on the belt. I did and was directed very emphatically not to even approach them and to follow him to the yellow footprints.

Again we started through the whole pat-down discourse, during which he asked if I had anything in my pockets. I told him that I had my wallet and he directed me to remove it and place it with my belongings. As I approached them he literally screamed at me to drop it in the basket and not to approach any closer to my belongings. It turned out that a couple of used tissues, ear plugs and some candy wrappers were also considered to be "bad." At this time I simply removed them and threw them on the floor.

He also asked me to remove my suspenders. I replied that if I did he and hundreds of others could see what he was about to touch “with the back of his hand." He said that he could work with them remaining on.

After the pat-down, I started to reach for my belongings so that I could catch the plane and again he shouted at me “Do not touch them!” and directed me to a chair so that he could examine the bottom of my feet. He swiped them with the wand and ran them through one of their magic machines. Only after that was I pronounced ready to leave.

I have to point out that no one looked at my CPAP, computer or sneakers but those damnable  suspenders were of significant interest to them.

While I was being screened — read humiliated and degraded — the individual who was behind me in the detector line appeared on the adjacent set of yellow footprints. He was in shorts, a T-shirt and flip flops. He responded that he commented on the ridiculousness of how I was being treated and was immediately sent to the footprints by the individual who "used to work in corrections."

Thus endeth my saga with the TSA. I hope that you all feel much more secure now that I have been thoroughly screened.