TSA

Trying to leave St. Louis last week I wound up showing a photo ID to a TSA agent who was not about to let just anyone get on a plane. His nametag read John 43000, an indication of his status within the organization. To his left stood a rookie, and John’s foil, Tom 23417. 43000’s upright stance and creased jowls broadcast two things: ex-marine and never-been-kissed-(by a boy). John was green-lighting about 1/3 as many passengers as Tom, resulting in the common and strange phenomenon of two lines of grossly disproportionate length. I chose the longer line, John’s line, interested more in the deliberate robotics of 43000’s method than the pleasant compliments and well-wishes of 23417.

The photographs of each potential-terrorist were wrung out for all identifying marks, and the passenger need display each of these features – a lazy eyelid, particularly fashionable eyewear, an upturned collar, a confident wink, coquettish head tilt. To let a terrorist through is out of the question; John closes the sieve more, squelching the travel fantasies of chronic weight-gainers, the non-photogenic, the shifty, the punk, the weight-losers, the Lasik patients, the balding, anyone who’s accessories or flesh has changed from the photo they offer as ID. Though I had my passport in my bag I enjoyed the couple minutes of scrutinizing and scowling as 43000 decided how many tasers it would take to floor me and whether the threat I presented was clear enough to summon his Walter Mathau colleague eating a sandwich behind a nearby curtain because the charming 23417 has a trigger shy history of letting people through who may have gotten highlights since last their license expired. I didn’t respond to his parries “there is no resemblence” and “do you have another ID?” because I wanted this obvious outcast of the St. Louis TSA squad to admit to a colleague that he couldn’t identify me from my photo. Meanwhile, Wayne Brady in the next line had complimented 5 pairs of shoes, acknowledged 2 new hairstyles and asked if anyone could grab him a coffee on their way to the plane as he allowed 8 people with a glance at their names and the relationship of their nose to their pupils. Apparently this trick didn’t exist when 43000 was trained.

They’re still wearing the Tom Ridge Fashion Contusion Memorial navy blue epaulets and and black ties. You’d think that with the modernization of our armed forces and the era in which the TSA was created, the outfit could resemble a Fighter Pilot, or a riot squad more than a recovering alcoholic police chief two days from retirement. I will combine a lot of patterns and colors, but I try to stay away from two things: (1) gray pants and a gray shirt (pajama-phobia) and (2) navy blue and black accessories on white with Gold piping and red accents. These outfits are the unknown victims of the war on terror.