When we heard that another terrorist attempt had taken place on a plane descending for Detroit on Christmas day, we had just decided to take a trip to Mexico. Immediately I began crunching the numbers for the probability that our hatred of flying was going to go up exponentially. I haven't been disappointed with my arithmetic.
Because let's face facts, here. Any buffoon who is going to try their hand at bringing down a plane in the sight-line of passengers is going to meet an unpleasant, angry struggle, as was evident after the rather ridiculous "shoe-bomber" and this numb-nut Umar. As the saying goes: "Fool me once..."
So I'm pretty sure that whether or not there are "Air Marshalls" around, the passengers are going to take matters into their own hands. Which means that you are now looking in the wrong direction, because even if some jackass has something to prove in this particular way, that bird has flown. It will never work again as well as it did that horrible day in September.
But being inventive, I'm sure they have other tricks up their sleeves...
...which does not involve sunblock. Because now that these dumbasses have made their points, albeit ineffectually, you are taking it out on my sunblock.
And my shampoo, and soap and conditioner, and my travel case which is now completely useless to me because it isn't transparent and security can't look to see whether or not I have minimized my life down to three ounces of goo. Instead, I need to squeeze one big tube of sunblock into at least three, possibly four leetle teeny toobs and tuck them in clear poly-plastic-lame-as-hell, environmentally disastrous packaging so that the security people can see that we don't have a little extra. I know this because I've already had two larger bottles (twenty dollars) of sunblock confiscated.
I'll bet that the crafty little devils are looking into other ways of making our lives complicated which don't involve squeezing out tubes of viscous liquids to make an incendiary device. Messy, cumbersome and obvious to the prying eyes of their seatmates, I'm sure their clever little brains are turned toward more subtle and inventive horrors.
So instead, we legitimate travelers are personally paying for their incomplete successes with utterly ineffectual travel regulations:
- By having to purchase thousands of little containers we do not actually need because we are already seasoned travelers and had the perfect travel set-up. And now don't.
- Showing up hours in advance to walk through the foot fungal biohazard that is the security line.
- Spend untold wastes of time figuring out how to bring enough sunblock for a week on the beach.
- Tormenting our fellow passengers, ourselves and our child by not having any distraction for him during the last hour of flight.
- Holding our bladders (or worse--we're going to Mexico after all) for the last descent to our beloved homeland.
You know as well as I do that nothing is going to dissuade the terrorists from trying to invent new ways of making our lives miserable. But the irony is, you are actually making our lives miserable.
W. said, "they hate our freedom" which was a total crock of shit. They didn't hate our freedom, they hated our cultural imperialism, but it's irrelevant now since we are losing our freedom anyway. I don't have the freedom to not purchase more crap I don't need if I want to travel, nor do I have the freedom to occupy my son while on the plane. I don't have the freedom to keep my toe jam away from everyone else's toe jam at the airport, which has to be one of the most disgusting (and unhealthy) elements of the security regulations now in place. I shiver with horror every time I walk through those gates now, stepping through god knows how much microbiota on my way to our prison in the sky.
So I'm just sending on this little note to let you know that I'm paying attention to the rules, but I don't like them at all. I think they're ridiculous, and they aren't going to do anything other than make passengers so disenchanted with traveling that they stop flying altogether, bringing down more planes than one shoe-bomber could possibly ever dream.
Maybe that was their plan after all.