#438 Flight of Duty

I took a vacation recently. I was a little surprised by some of the requirements nine-eleven and such like has imposed upon the casual traveler. And how ineffective they are. When you get right down to it the best defense of the friendly American way of life is the friendly American way of life. Most people want to be like us, not destroy us. We’re like one of those blithe, sunny-dispositioned people that go through life with a hand out and a ready smile and that everyone wants to know, even when they’re walking down a dark street late at night in a foreign country. Which I did a lot recently. Contrast that with the snarly defensive derriere-hole that’s always surly, always annoying, and always argumentative—the loud belligerent drunk that everyone at the bar wants to take a poke at. And the toughs on the street want to trade testosterone with. Those are the idiots that the beta males want to secretly sabotage as well. Anyhow, it’s important these days, when you are traveling on US airlines, to take no liquid container larger than three ounces. Any liquid or gel bottle you take has to be in a one-quart ziplock bag and handed directly to the inspector or left in plain sight in your carryon baggage. I traveled from the US to Mexico and back. I was inspected on both ends. I have to say that comparing the two methods of search, Mexico is lot safer place to be these days. The thoroughness with which they inspected my stuff on my way TO Mexico leaves little doubt in my mind that there’s any fear of terrorists getting OUT of our country for a nice vacation in Cabo San Lucas. However, terrorists coming back from Cabo—if they only employ the simple expedient of bribing a Mexican duty free clerk who is used to making eight dollars a day some unheard of wealth like, say, a hundred dollars—can receive his plastic explosive gel in a nice bubblewrap and ziptie-sealed convenient package. I was searched four times in Mexico. When you first arrive, they have this table with a button. You press it and if the light comes up green you get stopped and searched. If it comes up red you get to go. I got the green to stop. A random lotto type protection system. Anybody can get it at any time—no profiling. The older couple from Sheboygan runs the same chance as the disaffected fertilizer truck driver from the Aryan nation of Idaho. When I headed back to the states out of the Mexican airport, my baggage was hand searched at ticket check-in. My carryon baggage went through one of the two scanners in Cabo and was again hand searched at the gate. Which was right before I got on my airplane. Which I did right after I received my duty free make-up gel from the surprisingly happy and smiley duty free shop clerk. How can someone be that happy making 8 dollars a day waiting on grumpy, surly, pushy, people?
America, ya gotta love it.