…no, that’s insulting to Orangutans.
Consider this an open letter, written in the hope that it will give someone at that abomination of a rent-a-cop-shop just a twinge of guilt, and thus perhaps make their day as bad as they made mine.
You see, when I recently entered the U.S., I went through all the rigmarole you put your visitors through. I waited, patiently and almost uncomplainingly, in the immigration line, not flinching when, after an hour and a half (cut short by just enough for me to make my connecting flight by a lovely Mexican gentleman who let me in front of him), a pasty-faced midwestern Gestapo type spent ten minutes snapping at me and questioning my motives for visiting your lovely country.
“What are you doing in the U.S.? Are you carrying money? How much? You were just here in February! Why are you here again? When are you leaving? What do you want? Are you bringing food? For whom? Why?” Well, sir, I’m here for a funeral, it’s none of the U.S. government’s goddamned business that it’s my grandfather and that he died while I was last here, that this trip was unplanned and involuntary, that it’s because of people like the gentlemen put forward by ze Abteilung für Heimatlandssicherheit that I do not like visiting the U.S. and encourage others not to do so, that the champagne is for my friends who’re helping me out, and that I’m leaving as soon as I can, but I smile sweetly and answer his questions.
Back to you, dear friends at the TSA. The reason I am writing this is that your dedicated baggage screeners did a wonderful job. I understand now why I had to pick up my bags after the ordeal at immigration, after sprinting to the luggage carousel through groups of people downcast about having missed their flights thanks to the unnecessary wait, only to discover that they had all been dumped hodgepodge on the floor to make room for suitcases from another flight — while all the other baggage carousels in the hall stood unused and empty.
It is now clear that requiring me to pick up my bags between connecting flights (as opposed to highly ineffective screening and customs inspections that do not involve frustrated, hassled and stressed passengers frantically trying to make their way between gates without the ability to grab a luggage cart thanks to their lack of dollar bills — did I mention that your airports are the only ones I know worldwide that charge for trolleys?) gave you a chance to inspect my potential vehicles for evil terrorist shenanigans. Let’s go through a list of what your luggage inspectors did and did not do:
Did:
- Rifle through my suitcases, thus safeguarding America from two dangerous bottles of children’s sugary syrup.
- Open said dangerous bottles
- Re-place said dangerous bottles upside down in my suitcase
- Ensure that my gift bottle of champagne was sticking out of the bottom of the suitcase, allowing for it to be stress tested while thumping against the floor. Wouldn’t want any weak foreign champagne bottles to survive the trip, would we?
- Remove my pretty plastic silver Lufthansa baggage tags, ensuring that I could not get new ones due to the fact that LH has decided to revoke my frequent flyer status — probably over the fact that I keep referring to them as Luftwaffe, so I’ll let that slide.
Did not:
- Wholly screw the caps back on to said syrup bottles
Not only did your henchmen in uniform rudely harass and effectively detain me at your border (I was under the impression that you _wanted_ nice people to visit your country? Maybe someone could explain to me how making tourists feel like criminals is part of this policy?) thus forcing me to sprint through the airport, you also put me through the usual unnecessary security circus of shoe-and-belt removal, pushy and snappy security inspectors and all manner of other inconvenience. Because, of course, somebody’s bottle of water could be used to bring down a 747, but that’s another story.
Permit me to provide you with an executive summary: fuck you. You are clowns, you are ineffective, you hire people with no training, basic linguistic skills and terrible manners. You are part of a machinery designed to instill fear of authority for no reason but your own vanity. The world hates you and laughs at you behind your backs. You are an unnecessary evil that must be tolerated by hassled travelers for fear of being thrown off airplanes while on the way to see families or meet with clients.
Like parking ticket enforcers, you choose to work in the jobs for you; the Nuremberg defense (look it up) does not apply. You are despicable and reprehensible, without any justification for existence; you do not add security or other value in any conceivable sense, beyond providing employment for thugs and ignoramuses, with apologies for the few decent, intelligent people who may have accidentally found their way into your organization. When you are disbanded and sent back to Wal-Mart where you belong, the world will not miss you.
