THE INVISIBLE MAN
Relax. The title has you thinking that I'm about to relate a series of childhood nightmares. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the title alludes to the physical state in which I hope to be fully immersed next time I have to travel through JFK Airport in New York. As of a few weeks ago, yet another device in a long line of anti-terrorism measures has been put into use. The Sub-Clothing Body Scanner. Have I got your attention?
Since that tragic day in September of 2001, we have stumbled through a litany of rules, no-fly items, scanners, pat-downs, confiscated sneakers and countless other nuisances as the American public continues to try and fly to destinations in the face of ever-more-daunting odds. Our hearts have been in the right place. We can't let it happen again. And yet, how secure is "secure", and could there ever be a totally-secure aviation system in one as complex, fast-paced and expansive as ours? Given the exorbitant costs to both the airlines and the flying public in the measures we have instituted since 9/11, don't we want to focus those resources on effective tools?
I marveled, with trepidation, since long before Sept. 11th, 2001, at the easy access to the flight deck on commercial flights. As a pilot, I've noticed that one thing all cockpits have in common is a severe lack of space. Regardless of aircraft-type, the pilot and copilot are nestled in, with switches and controls usually on your left, overhead, on the forward panel/avionics suite, and usually a center console as well. The idea that you could defend yourself in a timely and effective manner from any kind of an assault from behind you is pretty remote. A Jewish grandmother could take out a couple of pilots with a heavy purse swung with passion. With cockpit doors that resemble a part from a camper, weight is everything on airplanes, and cockpits were always vulnerable. My point is, I believe the simple reinforced cockpit door has probably done more to dissuade our enemies from further attempts using aircraft as terrorist tools, than any of the Transportation Security Administration people who are confiscating tubes of toothpaste and shaving kits from weary travelers.
Additionally, and incredibly, upwards of 90% of the cargo that rides underneath you on every commercial flight still goes completely unchecked. Again, TSA officials are busy rifling through your Fruit of the Looms and everything else in your suitcase, which is why I always pack dirty underwear, but the cargo underneath, most notably the U.S. Mail, is still unsecured. All Nabu has to do is mail a box, with a timer and an explosive, from the East Coast to the West Coast, and all that time spent looking in people's sneakers back at the terminal will have been for naught. It is these gaping holes in our coverage which makes me even more outraged at the new screening device at JFK.
If you are one of the lucky ones to draw the short straw at the security line at JFK, you will be given the option of a physical pat-down, a very thorough "frisking", or you can be examined by the new device which scans your entire body and lets a lone security agent, who is in a room by him(her)self, review the picture of you in your birthday suit to be sure you don't have a lump of plastic explosives, or a box-cutter, or both, somewhere in your nether-regions. TSA officials assured the public that the randy radar only provided a "fuzzy" picture, a poor choice of words, by the way, and that travelers should not be unsettled by the procedure. Oh, not at all. Scan away. Clearly my days of flying in a thong are behind me, lest I find myself in the unenviable position of trying to explain that old habit to a 300 lb. TSA official with no sense of humor. Imagine how the employee who sits in that room must get grilled by co-workers for "details" at every coffee and lunch break. "C'mon, Louie...that blonde with the cowboy boots...does she or doesn't she...?"
Kidding aside, I can see myself straining at my diplomatic seams were any member of my family to draw the "we get to see you naked" card from any security agent at any airport. And me? No way. I'm not going to be doing that whole "George Castanza" speech from Seinfeld about how I just got out of a cold swimming pool. No, I'll be giving a much different speech and hoping that the evolution of the small jet, which is expected to someday make personal jet charter a reality, comes around as soon as possible. And remember, when you're standing there in your socks in front of hundreds of strangers and you hear snickering coming from the isolation booth, who made it all possible, back on September 11th, 2001.
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