The long line at St. Louis Lambert International Airport serpentines back and forth between the cordons.
“Oh great,” I think as the security guard returns my driver’s license and boarding pass, “Just what I feel like doing, standing in line.”
But I join the throng.
Here we are, waiting to go through airport security…all ages…teen-agers…toddlers, elementary children with young parents… older women like me…business men and women…
All reduced to one status— terrorist suspects.
Above the cloud of mingled hair spray, shampoo and deodorant scents, the strident voice of a TSA worker repeats directions for those of us too thick-headed to be prepared:
“ALL LIQUIDS OF 2 OZ OR LESS MUST BE PLACED IN 1 QUART ZIPLOCKS. YOU MUST REMOVE YOUR SHOES….”
The line lurches slowly forward. We shuffle along in stocking feet, everyone conscientiously following the cordoned path.
When we reach the counter, we passively take off our jackets and sweaters, many of us carefully folding them as we place them in the provided plastic containers to go through the X-ray machine.
We obligingly remove our computers from cases and placed them in separate containers.
We place all other personal belongings in containers.
Stripped of everything but basic clothing, we step through the metal detector at the commanded nod or hand sign from a security person.
We aren’t required to take off our clothes and walk naked, but future installments of full body scanners will do that for us.
Having made it through security and feeling disorganized and scattered, I stop to gather my handbag, straighten my carry-on and check for my airline ticket. Finally as I push my feet back into my loafers, I feel my dignity slowly returning.
But several people, more unlucky than I, have been pulled off to the side for indepth searching.
Their luggage is being opened, the contents on full display. They answer questions with meek expressions.
Slowly I walk to my gate, sit down and wait for my Minneapolis-bound flight, troubled thoughts flooding my mind.
Why are we citizens of a free republic allowing ourselves to be treated like criminals in order to travel by air? To thwart terrorism?
Yes, but must we trade our freedoms to do it and if so, is it worth it?
The entire security issue, as it stands, raises too many questions.
Who decides who’s a terrorist and how? What’s to stop someone from eventually calling you or me one? Ridiculous? Maybe, but if we give up all personal rights for security, what recourse will we have?
There’s also the question of full body scanners. What about the threat of radiation, not to mention privacy and dignity? And who stands to make money selling the scanners?
If we passively accept scanners at airports, what’s next? Courthouses? Malls?
There must be better ways to deal with the problem.
What about trusting the instincts of fellow citizen passengers? Wouldn’t more citizen/ communal vigilance be a good start?
How much dignity and freedom are we willing to give up?
I think back to the meek faces of fellow passengers as we subjected ourselves to the mercy of security measures and I wonder.
Will we also go meekly into the showers when they tell us to?
All tyranny needs to gain a
foothold is for people of good
conscience to remain silent.
Thomas Jefferson
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