Don’t TSA me, bro!

Tomorrow, thursday, I’m flying to Oregon (see a posting four or so entries ago about my reasons: personal and universal.) Five days. Going alone. Going to see my youngest son in Portland and then people I grew up with in Salem, and thereabouts, and my parents’ grave. Reconnecting. Hoping to remember what I’ve forgotten; on the way back I may hope to forget some of it again.

En route, I get to go through the TSA screening for the first time since they’ve started the new, scarier, more intrusive regimen. Nowadays they’re doing the facial analysis process. They look at “cues” and “indicators” in your face, your voice, that you’re hiding something. If they decide you’re dangerous, because of some flicker in your face, they pull you aside. They probe and grill you. They might delay you. They’ll make you tense and angry–and then they’ll say, “He shows signs of being tense and angry.”

They’re looking for these oh-so-infallible facial cues and indicators in ordinary people who may be going through financial crises, who may be depressed, who might’ve just had an argument with their wife or husband, who might be suffering from preliminary symptoms of fear of flying, who might have a mild stomach disorder, who might be impatient or tired or…

Just stressed out. From TSA. “He looks stressed out–pull him out of the line.”

“He just snapped and me and said this is bullshit!”

“Tase him!”

I’m so looking forward to it.

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