There is nothing quite as degrading as being forced to strip yourself, is there? What kind of bullshit is this, anyways? What the hell does it accomplish? “Oh, look! We’re making people feel safer by making them take off their shows and walk uncomfortably through a metal detector.” It’s a shame that there’s no real way to fight it. One sign of defiance and you’re branded a threat, humiliated even more and even barred from flying.
Those TSA workers are so rude, too. God, they act like such tools, like little kids on power trips. “Could you show me another ID? This one doesn’t have an expiration date.” Oh, sure thing, sir. Just let me put my bag on the floor, open one of the pockets and take my wallet out. Sure, I don’t mind making a scene in front of a group of 40 people just so that you can feel better about how you prevented a potential terrorist from boarding a plane. “Do you have a laptop in your bag, sir? You must take it out. —- No, no, it must be put in its own tray!” Oh, sure thing, ma’am. I’m sure that that enables you to more effectively scan my possessions for threats. Sure, I don’t mind granting you the authority to see everything I’m traveling with. In fact, I’d love to give up my freedoms to aid you in fighting those dirty terrorists.
Oh, and let’s not forget that little incident during last April. There I was, carrying two bags and crutching along the bloody security lines. It just so happened that I also had to wear a brace. They made me take off my fucking shoes—while on crutches! I nearly fell flat on my back because they couldn’t make an exception for a guy who could barely walk. And to top it all off, the agents searched me because I couldn’t take my brace off. What could have been a simple security check turned into fifteen minutes of being groped by a middle aged man—all while on crutches.
The TSA is nothing more than a cancer. I look forward to the day when that agency dies a fiery death.