Let me warn you that this is probably going to be the most scattered entry I have on such a touchy subject but I don’t really have the time nor the patience to attempt to be politically correct at this moment. Right now I am sitting at the domestic terminal of the San Francisco airport, waiting for a flight to Chicago and I had a not-so-pleasant experience getting from the airport entrance to where I am right now.
I know that the rigorous airport inspection at the entrance is all standard procedure, you know, just in case I have a bomb up my crotch, but just because this was standard procedure doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to feel slightly humiliated throughout the entire thing. I had been warned that the security inspection at the entrance would be incredibly thorough. First you have to place all your things on trays and stuff, then you have to step through a chamber where they blow air all over you - I have no idea what the fuck that was for. Then more metal detector like inspection before they finally let you through. It sounded like such a pain in the ass but I figured, if everyone has to go through it, I’m not gonna make a big deal about going through it myself too.
But I was wrong. Apparently, not everyone goes through the humiliation of getting inspected in public for being a potential terrorist. If you’re carrying a US passport, fine, you can go on ahead and place your things on the conveyor belt but wait - you have a Philippine passport! You’re like, poor and stuff right? You guys have a Communist party with an armed wing that we considered as terrorist groups, don’t you? And hey, weren’t you like a former colony of the United States? You guys must be mighty angry at us for fucking up your culture, government, and economy! Stand right here please, you look like you want to blow up our country.
So maybe the airport inspection people didn’t put it that way but they could have been that forward and crass and I would have probably liked that better because at least it was honest. But no, they had to shield their suspicion with a sheet of saccharine niceness that was sickening. I was horrified when they singled me out of the and told me to step aside, “away from your companion,” they specified, referring to Ale. “Don’t make any eye contact with him,” they added, as if, I dunno, blinking at him would activate the bomb I was hiding somewhere in my body. Then I stepped through the air chamber that blew bursts of cold air all over my body. It was at this point that I noticed that nobody else but me and Ale was going through the whole cold chamber, no-contact inspection. All because we carried foreign passports. I was starting to get pissed.
Then I stepped out of the air chamber and rejoined the rest of the passengers who were being inspected. Except the only things that were being inspected on the other passengers were their bags. The airport people started running all these metal detectors all over my body and again I realized I was the only one who was being so thoroughly checked. I couldn’t look at anyone’s faces because I could feel their eyes watching me, and at one point I actually had to blink back tears of rage and restrain myself from shooting sarcastic statements at the inspector person like, “Look, I could make your job tons easier by removing all my clothes right now, down to my underwear, just so you can make sure I have no fucking bombs strapped onto my body. Because right now, being naked in front of all these people wouldn’t feel any less humiliating. Hell, if you want to really make sure, I’ll even let you look between my legs and up my ass.”
At this point, I’m pretty sure I sound like an overly defensive foreigner in America, and maybe I am being a little too sensitive and too proud for my own good. But if you had been there, standing in front of everyone and getting inspected for being a potential terrorist in front of all the passengers just because you’re not an American citizen, I’m sure you would have felt something similar. And if you’ve ever experienced the same rigorous and humiliating inspection, then felt nothing because you thought that what they were doing was for the protection of the passengers on the plane, well fucking shame on you. I am telling you now that the whole spectacle of the inspection was done to protect everyone from you, the non-American potential terrorist. If I were you, I’d feel furious. And I would like to let you know that I am furious at you for not being furious at the indignity of the whole thing.
I want a cigarette but smoking a cigarette means stepping outside of the airport and stepping outside the airport means having to get inspected all over again. And if I have to go through all that one more time, I will throw a hissyfit that will convince them that I am indeed a terr-rist. And maybe offering to have them look up my crotch for any hidden bombs won’t even make them think otherwise.