Airports

Beyond my gender struggles in schools, I also have a problem with airports.  I like them – all full of possibility and potential.  They don’t like me so much, or at least the security team doesn’t.  I get stopped every single time.  I made a mini bet on my last overseas trip that I would be stopped at every one of the ten or so airports we’d be passing though…and I missed it by one. And that was only because the woman in front of me was arrested for drug trafficking and was being cuffed, so they didn’t look too closely at me.

Why?  I really don’t know.  As mentioned, I’m not the most feminine of women.  Do I look like a ‘terrorist’?  I really don’t know what that means anyway, but I don’t think I fit the profile.  Regardless, I have better conspiracy theory.

In August of 2001 I went on my big, post uni round the world trip, and found myself in Canada on September 11.  Ten days later, as scheduled prior to world events, I was due to fly to New York City.  Air space was reopened in time, and off I went.  Well, by then security had changed and was in a scramble to change even more. Everyone was getting looked at twice, and people were pretty jumpy.  I went to check in Vancouver in their special Canada to USA section and handed my ticket to the woman, then my passport.

It took one glance at the ticket, before the passport.  The ticket had my (quite girly) name.  The woman glanced at my not so girly 21 year old butch/ teenage boy traveller look, and the oh so close to the surface alarm bells went nuts.  She grabbed my passport, she double checked me, she got my hat and shoes off in a heart beat (for those of you who remember, this was unheard of pre-2001) and then got security and went through my gear etc etc.

Where is the conspiracy?  I’m convinced they tagged my passport from that in some way.  It was brand new, so for the following ten years of my intrepid 20’s, I was frisked, patted down, glared at, stared at and generally given a hard time in every airport I set foot in.

Then again, it happens here domestically, where I don’t need my passport, so perhaps I am being a little paranoid.  Then again, perhaps I just inspire paranoia in those who work in airport security.