Thursday
Nov082007
Guilty Until Proven Innocent
Hey George, the terrorists don't hate my freedom; the TSA does!
The Transportation Security Administration and I don't exactly see eye to eye. While I fully respect their intentions, and their hardworking vigilant employees, I disagree with their guidelines and practices... to say the least.
You see, I hate the TSA. With a passion. And for some ridiculous reason, I find it necessary to vocalize my displeasure with each and every trip to the terminals. I know it's like explaining cardio to Rosie or moderation to a Hilton, but I can't seem to help myself.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any more laughable then having to slip off my Sketchers sandals before a dose of radiation, along comes the great "liquids and gels" fiasco. It's as if the lords of security keep stumbling upon new nonsense commandments to force upon their flock.
Well, "BAH!" I say...
People talk of contractual conspiracies between the United States government, Iraq and Haliburton; but those theories pale in comparison to the reality that is the Denver International Airport, Aquafresh, and Zip-Lock!
You see, much like Dr. Phil, my teeth are overly sensitive. And recently, I lost a beloved tube of the very triple protection toothpaste that provided me salvation from said sensitivity! After chastising me about the size of my "zip-top clear plastic bag", (one quart size ensures a safe flight for all while a practically empty one gallon bag means I'm an Al-Qaeda sympathist), a TSA agent at the Denver International Airport meticulously inspected each and every item within.
After declaring my tub of D:Fi hair gel non-lethal, and giving my Red Zone deodorant the all clear, his focus shifted to my tube of triple striped terrorism and a wave a panic rippled through his beady eyes. He locked onto the label like the T-1000 spotting young John Connor, and carefully analyzed each printed digit...
"Four point three ounces" he exclaimed, "too much! It's got to go!"
He had the gleeful expression of a preteen bully at an Easter Egg hunt, proud of having snatched a hidden gem from a lesser being; despite having no actual desire for such findings.
"Are you serious?" I inquired. "I mean, look, the thing is practically empty!" I gestured towards the obsessive-compulsively-rolled tube dangling between his index finger and thumb.
"Sir. The label on this CLEARLY states four point three ounces, and our guidelines, which are clearly printed over there CLEARLY state you can only have THREE ounces of a gel or liquid..."
I decided to cut in, "Listen. I get that. It's fine. I'm just saying the thing is practically empty..."
He interjected with an exponentially fireier, "SIR! We here have no way to accurately measure the amount of a liquid or gel residing in a particular tube or container. We have to go by what is printed on the label itself. THIS label, states THIS tube, contains FOUR POINT THREE ounces. Our guidelines CLEARLY STATE, we only allow three..."
At that point I realized I could care less about losing my Aquafresh; this was now about proving I wasn't some evil-doer trying to slip one by a skillful government agent. I felt, in that moment I had to now fight for my honor, even though I was losing my last remaining shreds of dignity in the process. It was David versus the clearly-printed-guidelines-Goliath!
I grabbed a pebble and loaded the rhetorical slingshot.
"So you're telling me the TSA has no way of accurately measuring how much of a gel or liquid is in any given tube or container?"
He blinked rapidly, sizing up my perceived stupidity.
"That's what I just said, isn't it?" he replied, his tone reeking of a verbal check-mate.
"And so, you can only go by what's printed on the label?"
His catty grin shifted to a full blown smile, clearly celebrating his far superior mental prowess...
"Isn't that what, I... just... said?"
"Yes." I agreed. "But then let me ask you this. Let's suppose I'm a member of some crazy Islamo-fascist terrorist organization..."
I should note that any sentence containing "...I'm a member of some crazy Islamo-fascist terrorist organization" is not one that should probably be uttered when you're inches away from a carry-on X-ray machine and well within earshot of intimidating K-9-toting members of law enforcement. But my new audience didn't concern me; I carry an ACLU card which gives me plus ten to "Speech Freedom", apparently. I bravely pressed forward.
"Let's suppose I'm a member of some crazy Islamo-fascist terrorist organization. And I know that the difference between proper hygiene and a weapon of mass destruction is, in this case, exactly one point three ounces of gel..."
My ninja like math skills sent him reeling.
"...and I know you can't accurately measure any liquids or gels..."
I stealthily moved into position.
"...and you judge the contents of a container solely by the amount printed on the label..."
He never heard the unsheathing of the blade.
"...what's to stop me from filling a one quart bag with a giant tube of 'toothpaste'...", employing the deadly ancient art of the bunny fingers, "and making a custom label for it that simply says 'three ounces'?"
Pawn takes King.
"You... you. You couldn't!" He protested.
"Look at this stuff!" I pointed wildly to each item in the bag. "Most of these labels are just printed and pasted right on. My deodorant, this hair gel... I mean, if this all came about because some group was planning on making bottles of Gatorade with hidden compartments and dying small amounts of explosives to match the Arctic Freeze flavored liquid above, what exactly would prevent them from heading on down to Kinkos and printing up some new labels for their oversized Old Spice?"
Like Nigel Tufnel explaining his amps are "one louder"; Mr. TSA actually stared blankly for a moment, outstretched the arm still clutching the Aquafresh and said, "But this tube is four point three ounces..."
Swear to god...
Now the remainder of this tale is, sadly, even more uninteresting than what you've just skimmed over. And at one thirty in the morning, my eyelids have grown heavy. AND my personal-promise to finish this blog and share this little tale before nodding off will not be broken. So I will simply end it there.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that again, while I appreciate the intentions of our Government and the TSA in general, I just don't believe in their effectiveness.
When you're keeping citizens "safe" by treating them like suspects; guilty of a crime, until a GE Air-Gate, X-Ray Machine, shoe-check, gel inspection and thorough bag swabbing PROVE their innocent, something is terribly wrong.
And when a court drops the charges of terrorism against the guy whose arrest SPARKED this whole liquid bomber controversy, maybe you should rethink the knee-jerk policy that forces me to expose hemorrhoid cream and KY Warming Sessions to my fellow jetsetters.
Just saying.
The Transportation Security Administration and I don't exactly see eye to eye. While I fully respect their intentions, and their hardworking vigilant employees, I disagree with their guidelines and practices... to say the least.
You see, I hate the TSA. With a passion. And for some ridiculous reason, I find it necessary to vocalize my displeasure with each and every trip to the terminals. I know it's like explaining cardio to Rosie or moderation to a Hilton, but I can't seem to help myself.
Just when I thought it couldn't get any more laughable then having to slip off my Sketchers sandals before a dose of radiation, along comes the great "liquids and gels" fiasco. It's as if the lords of security keep stumbling upon new nonsense commandments to force upon their flock.
Well, "BAH!" I say...
People talk of contractual conspiracies between the United States government, Iraq and Haliburton; but those theories pale in comparison to the reality that is the Denver International Airport, Aquafresh, and Zip-Lock!
You see, much like Dr. Phil, my teeth are overly sensitive. And recently, I lost a beloved tube of the very triple protection toothpaste that provided me salvation from said sensitivity! After chastising me about the size of my "zip-top clear plastic bag", (one quart size ensures a safe flight for all while a practically empty one gallon bag means I'm an Al-Qaeda sympathist), a TSA agent at the Denver International Airport meticulously inspected each and every item within.
After declaring my tub of D:Fi hair gel non-lethal, and giving my Red Zone deodorant the all clear, his focus shifted to my tube of triple striped terrorism and a wave a panic rippled through his beady eyes. He locked onto the label like the T-1000 spotting young John Connor, and carefully analyzed each printed digit...
"Four point three ounces" he exclaimed, "too much! It's got to go!"
He had the gleeful expression of a preteen bully at an Easter Egg hunt, proud of having snatched a hidden gem from a lesser being; despite having no actual desire for such findings.
"Are you serious?" I inquired. "I mean, look, the thing is practically empty!" I gestured towards the obsessive-compulsively-rolled tube dangling between his index finger and thumb.
"Sir. The label on this CLEARLY states four point three ounces, and our guidelines, which are clearly printed over there CLEARLY state you can only have THREE ounces of a gel or liquid..."
I decided to cut in, "Listen. I get that. It's fine. I'm just saying the thing is practically empty..."
He interjected with an exponentially fireier, "SIR! We here have no way to accurately measure the amount of a liquid or gel residing in a particular tube or container. We have to go by what is printed on the label itself. THIS label, states THIS tube, contains FOUR POINT THREE ounces. Our guidelines CLEARLY STATE, we only allow three..."
At that point I realized I could care less about losing my Aquafresh; this was now about proving I wasn't some evil-doer trying to slip one by a skillful government agent. I felt, in that moment I had to now fight for my honor, even though I was losing my last remaining shreds of dignity in the process. It was David versus the clearly-printed-guidelines-Goliath!
I grabbed a pebble and loaded the rhetorical slingshot.
"So you're telling me the TSA has no way of accurately measuring how much of a gel or liquid is in any given tube or container?"
He blinked rapidly, sizing up my perceived stupidity.
"That's what I just said, isn't it?" he replied, his tone reeking of a verbal check-mate.
"And so, you can only go by what's printed on the label?"
His catty grin shifted to a full blown smile, clearly celebrating his far superior mental prowess...
"Isn't that what, I... just... said?"
"Yes." I agreed. "But then let me ask you this. Let's suppose I'm a member of some crazy Islamo-fascist terrorist organization..."
I should note that any sentence containing "...I'm a member of some crazy Islamo-fascist terrorist organization" is not one that should probably be uttered when you're inches away from a carry-on X-ray machine and well within earshot of intimidating K-9-toting members of law enforcement. But my new audience didn't concern me; I carry an ACLU card which gives me plus ten to "Speech Freedom", apparently. I bravely pressed forward.
"Let's suppose I'm a member of some crazy Islamo-fascist terrorist organization. And I know that the difference between proper hygiene and a weapon of mass destruction is, in this case, exactly one point three ounces of gel..."
My ninja like math skills sent him reeling.
"...and I know you can't accurately measure any liquids or gels..."
I stealthily moved into position.
"...and you judge the contents of a container solely by the amount printed on the label..."
He never heard the unsheathing of the blade.
"...what's to stop me from filling a one quart bag with a giant tube of 'toothpaste'...", employing the deadly ancient art of the bunny fingers, "and making a custom label for it that simply says 'three ounces'?"
Pawn takes King.
"You... you. You couldn't!" He protested.
"Look at this stuff!" I pointed wildly to each item in the bag. "Most of these labels are just printed and pasted right on. My deodorant, this hair gel... I mean, if this all came about because some group was planning on making bottles of Gatorade with hidden compartments and dying small amounts of explosives to match the Arctic Freeze flavored liquid above, what exactly would prevent them from heading on down to Kinkos and printing up some new labels for their oversized Old Spice?"
Like Nigel Tufnel explaining his amps are "one louder"; Mr. TSA actually stared blankly for a moment, outstretched the arm still clutching the Aquafresh and said, "But this tube is four point three ounces..."
Swear to god...
Now the remainder of this tale is, sadly, even more uninteresting than what you've just skimmed over. And at one thirty in the morning, my eyelids have grown heavy. AND my personal-promise to finish this blog and share this little tale before nodding off will not be broken. So I will simply end it there.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that again, while I appreciate the intentions of our Government and the TSA in general, I just don't believe in their effectiveness.
When you're keeping citizens "safe" by treating them like suspects; guilty of a crime, until a GE Air-Gate, X-Ray Machine, shoe-check, gel inspection and thorough bag swabbing PROVE their innocent, something is terribly wrong.
And when a court drops the charges of terrorism against the guy whose arrest SPARKED this whole liquid bomber controversy, maybe you should rethink the knee-jerk policy that forces me to expose hemorrhoid cream and KY Warming Sessions to my fellow jetsetters.
Just saying.
Nov 8, 2007
Reader Comments (6)
:)
This sort of spontaneous rhetoric is the thing I miss most from the ol' blog...
Since absence of this soft, chewy, and might I add strawberry flavored series of Kindle, political, and generally ridiculous rants, malnutrition has taken my proverbial mind.
I hunger for these unnecessarily long, and pointless blog entries
Feed me. :3
after you ninja'd him, you should have "FINISH'd HIM" off with a "FATALITY!" i hate these new security measures i think the only thing EXPLOSIVE kevin ever made was from his RED HOT POOPER. When i look at kevins babyface the FIRST THOUGHT that comes to mind is, I WONDER WHAT BABY HOSPITAL HES GONNA BLOW UP TODAY.... god people are so stupid sometimes!
I just put mine gels and liquids in my pocket and they never notice
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