Cosmoline
Member
I haven't flown for over two years now, in spite of the fact that I'm in Alaska and it's basically the only way to go. On my last flight in 2002, the screeners basically forced us to strip. My jacket, shoes, belt, etc. all came off. The screener took my wallet, fingered through it, examined my ID and my ticket, and then passed it around the detector while half a dozen people walked by it and I was helpless in line.
At other times, I had witnessed screeners open checked bags for inspection and laugh at underwear and other private objects they found inside--all in the open view of those at the ticket counter. I witnessed them pocket my own best lighter, along with numerous other personal objects. I accepted all this in the interest of post 9/11 security.
But that last time, standing half naked in line, something in me went *SNAP*. Seeing all of us there, shoeless and being pressed along by security guards who were (ironically enough) mostly foreign nationals, all under the watchful eye of men with loaded firearms. It made me think of other lines of half-naked people under the eye of armed men asking for papers. I knew at that moment that had I been singled out on some trumped-up nonsense or asked to submit to invasive searching, I would not have been able to control myself anymore.
One word sprung to my mind over and over again. RAPE. I was being raped by my own government. Not sexually probed, but stripped bare, humiliated and made to submit to their will. That's the essence of rape.
So I don't fly now, and probably never will again even though it means I may never see most of my family. The airports have become a terrifying vision of what the nation as a whole might one day devolve into. And if that day comes, I'll either join a proper revolution or by the allmighty I'll scatter my brains with a 54R.
At other times, I had witnessed screeners open checked bags for inspection and laugh at underwear and other private objects they found inside--all in the open view of those at the ticket counter. I witnessed them pocket my own best lighter, along with numerous other personal objects. I accepted all this in the interest of post 9/11 security.
But that last time, standing half naked in line, something in me went *SNAP*. Seeing all of us there, shoeless and being pressed along by security guards who were (ironically enough) mostly foreign nationals, all under the watchful eye of men with loaded firearms. It made me think of other lines of half-naked people under the eye of armed men asking for papers. I knew at that moment that had I been singled out on some trumped-up nonsense or asked to submit to invasive searching, I would not have been able to control myself anymore.
One word sprung to my mind over and over again. RAPE. I was being raped by my own government. Not sexually probed, but stripped bare, humiliated and made to submit to their will. That's the essence of rape.
So I don't fly now, and probably never will again even though it means I may never see most of my family. The airports have become a terrifying vision of what the nation as a whole might one day devolve into. And if that day comes, I'll either join a proper revolution or by the allmighty I'll scatter my brains with a 54R.