Airport security

A few hours before xmas eve. For the first time since I left Barcelona I will go back home for xmas only on the 24th itself, just in time for the “shitlog” (new entry to come soonest). I used to do so earlier, to allow some time for last minute shopping and prepare for all the excesses, gastronomic and others. This time, though, I waited until the last moment to allow myself a longer holiday break.

I set for the Parisian Orly airport by taxi. Streets seemed almost empty by my place, but I forgot it is indeed 24 December and I am flying in the early afternoon. I am bound to face a city close to collapse with traffic jams, as everyone just left their workplaces to head home in this shortened working day. Not only the taxi will cost me a fortune; on top of it I will reach the airport in full anxiety to check in before the flight is closed. I trust meteorology will have caused some delays; I will only be wrong in part. I get to the terminal just on schedule and yet I will have to wait. The flight is delayed.

We are told the delay is caused by the late arrival of the aircraft, which was flying in from Rome, where a lady had a panic attack and had to be disembarked with her family. Security regulations indicate that in such a case the luggage has to be located and unloaded. Logical, but not on account of any preoccupation about that particular person’s welfare, but rather to avoid that the luggage could be forgotten intentionally and with criminal motivations.

The world’s evolution, particularly during the last decade, transformed security measures in such a way that, being a frequent traveler, forced me get used to all the procedures. As soon as my luggage is checked in I set for the security control. My wallet, my keys, my telephone, all goes in the pockets of my jacket, which will be scanned. I take off my belt and store it in my briefcase. My laptop will also go through the detector on a separate tray.

I am not carrying any liquids or gels, not even a miserable bottle of water. I try to avoid them since their transport in cabin was severely restricted after an attempt to blow airplanes in flight by use of liquid explosives. This was another security measure with interesting side effects; in this case it implied reinforcing the business of bars and restaurants in airports, as well as the general trend by which terminals became enormous shopping malls targeting travelers, who have by definition a considerable purchasing power.

I always asked myself which percentage of the security ritual is nothing but dissuasion or sheer intimidation. This was crystal clear to me in 2000, in Tel-Aviv, when I had to witness how a military officer with a metal detector went through every single piece of my luggage including dirty underwear. That was nothing but the Israeli despicable punishment as I dared spending some time with Palestinian friends in the West Bank. 9/11 prompted security measures to increasingly emulate this Israeli experience, which back then was just a draconian exception. Ever since all the security ritual reinforced all procedures, and most particularly this intimidation side, which I find revolting. I simply detest being treated as a criminal. Intimidation is part of the game, and measures are on the increase after the last incident in Amsterdam when a criminal wanted to blow off a plane using explosive hidden in his underwear. Hugely expensive all-body scans will be installed at the Schiphol airport. However, I read opinions by experts who say upgrading security measures will only cause delays and stress, and that efforts should concentrate on observing people’s patterns of behavior as the terrorists’ seem to be quite distinguishable.

My walk through the metal detector and my thinking is disturbed by a resounding beep. I don’t know what did provoke it, as I never went through any surgery that involved inserting any metal piece in my body. If it were not the bit of metal in my glasses or iron in my liver (?), I ignore what it was. A security guard comes and politely asks whether he can search me. I concede as I do not know what might happen if I refuse. I extend my arms and he searches me. As he goes down my chest and before getting to my legs, his exceeding zeal or excess in hurry result in him touching my left testicle. I immediately jump back, he immediately goes pale and apologizes, which he will later reiterate while I start chuckling in a mix of disbelief and amazement.

As explained above in a more polite language, a certain approach to security measures in airports always broke my balls. However, I never imagined one day this would come so close to being literal.