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Predictions

Tomorrow my little family is going to Myrtle Beach, S.C. for a little vacation, and we are flying. Long time readers of this blog will know that hate flying. It’s not a fear of enclosed spaces, heights, or terrorism but a disdain for the entire process that goes into flying. Tomorrow will be especially difficult as I tug along a little creatuIre whose capacity for chaos can only be accurately described by a panel of experts testifying at a Senate hearing.

The whole ordeal of arriving at the airport several hours in advance is made doubly fun when you consider my track record since 9/11. I have made five separate round trip since the event and each time I have been pulled aside for random screening. I use the term “random” in the loosest possible sense of the word, since frequent repetition of any even will begin to stretch the plausibility of its application.

I just hope lugging around a whole bunch of little baby supplies doesn’t make me seem like more of a risk than normal. Although given the state of security in the last 9 years this will probably earn me a pass through the gate rather than what I am expecting.

The worst thing about all of the security at the airport is how it hampers those of use who aren’t going to cause a problem. Of course the standard objection is that you need to police everyone because you can’t predict problems with absolute clarity. True enough, but this isn’t security this is the illusion of security. I have to bring a picture I.D. to verify who I am, in theory this makes sense but you can’t tell me that someone committed to terrorist action couldn’t fake an I.D.? Or even worse, that same person seeking martyrdom probably doesn’t care if someone knows who is responsible?

One guy tries to light his shoe on fire and now I have to take my shoes off? Would his bomb have even done anything?

I hate the process, the eight dollar beer at the airport, and the whole safety routine. They should really save the “in case of water landing” speech for trips actually traveling across the water.

All I really hope for is that the ear pressure thing won’t bother little Gwen.

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Categories: daily complaint
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