Rantings

OK, so I just read a couple of things that make me want to rant. First, Pres. Bush's reiteration about the "War on Terror." Second, a Newsweek sidebar about the shoot-to-kill policy Scotland Yard has adopted since the bomb blasts in London a few weeks ago.

I know that terrorists are waging a war on the world, a war that touches all lives, whether they're directly affected or not. Since I started living in the U.S. three years ago, this "war on terror" has clouded my existence.

For instance, I was returning to the U.S. after a family wedding in Vancouver, Canada. It was the first time I'd left the United States since it had enacted the rule that non-U.S. citizens coming into the country need to have their fingerprints and irises scanned. So, I knew I would have to do that, going through U.S. immigration and customs at Vancouver International Airport. Of course, it had to be at 5 a.m.

After waking up at 2.45 a.m., returning the rental car, and going through the airlines' check-in, I waited behind the velvet rope for half-an-hour before the counters were open. Now, anyone who's known me for any period of time knows that I'm not an a.m. person. Walking up to the counter, I find out I didn't bring a document I was supposed to. So, I was kinda panicked, but I was feeling the panic through a blanket of haze.

We sorted out that I needed to get my records called up on the computer. So, the officer progressed to the next thing. Which was to ask me for my left index finger. Now, where I grew up, we didn't call it that. So I lifted what I thought was the index finger and asked the officer if that was it. He said, rather sternly, "Yes." And then he said, "Right index finger." And I thought he said something like, "[You got the] right index finger." So, I just left my left index finger sitting there. Until he repeated, "Right index finger, please." And I said, "Oh, sorry." And switched index fingers. Then, he asked me to look into that camera thing so he could record my iris and it brought up memories of "The Minority Report." Was someone going to steal my eyeballs now?

Then, he did the same to my husband. My husband hesitated on some request of the officer's and asked a clarification question before doing as requested. I just said conversationally, "It's early in the morning." To which the officer grimly replied, "You're up about and walking. You're awake. It's not too early in the morning."

"Oh," I said.

He wasn't finished yet.

"But, you," he said, nodding his head in my direction. "We know mornings are not for you."

I don't know if the officer was trying to be nice or gruff or both. Either ways, I got shuffled off to some room where they could call up my records.

While going through the security checkpoint--I got "randomly" selected for the full-body screening. They made me take off my sports sandals, which was basically a rubber sole with 2 straps. And a woman ran her hands over my body--the only other woman, besides my doctor, who has handled my boobs.

I thought it had all ended when I got back to my bedroom in Iowa City. But while unpacking my checked-in suitcase, I found a Transportation Security Authority note in it that said my suitcase had been "randomly" selected for checking. Good thing my dirty laundry was all in a plastic bag in my husband's suitcase.

How random was all that?