#1181 Senior Security

The other day I was driving down the road and I found myself behind an older person. He had gray hair, with a thin spot over the crown and those car-door ears sported by all septuagenarians. He was also driving the classic large senior sedan favored by only two groups of people. The Ford Crown Victoria.
Within seconds another Crown Victoria approached from the other direction. It too, was piloted by a superannuated individual. Except on the side of his Crown Victoria, it announced he was from the other group of people as well. He was a member of the Senior Patrol.
And I thought, how convenient it is for our senior patrollers. They don’t have to get used to driving a new car, they can just switch Crown Vics.
I’ve always wondered about the senior patrol thing though. Is there a sophomore patrol? Does the senior patrol make Christmas stops at all the rest homes like the regulars do for the schools? Do they use their tasers for de-fib paddles?
And are they more jaded with criminals because they’ve seen it all before? If so, I bet they’d make good security people at the airports.
Lately I’ve been thinking about the security fallout from the underwear bomber and how they’re talking about sending us through full body scanners. In one sense, that’s pretty creepy. They assure us the scanners don’t render an anatomically perfect image, it’s more like a soft focus sort of thing.
Great, so we’d all look like Vaseline-coated lens-adjusted Playboy Playmates?
One possible good thing is we’ll keep more prudes off the airplanes. And for any fanatics whose moral or religious compass points them towards full body covering, this could be a good thing.
If the rest of us still object, I suggest one or both of two things. Use seniors, or have the people manning or womanning the full-body scanners be Doctors. We’ve gotten used to stripping down at Group Health. They see naked people all the time and could care less.
Perfect! Seniors and MDs at the airport scanners.
Ho hum. Been there, done that.
Seen a million of ‘em, by crackey
America, ya gotta love it.