Fly the Paranoid Skys

Air travel is going to take a turn for the even worse when it comes to foreign flights leaving the USA.

According to this article in the Guardian, passengers traveling from the US will have to be fingerprinted to be allowed on any flight.

It’s enough to make you vomit. Read the article here.

Personally, unless there simply is no other way, I stopped flying after 9-11; not because of any fear of terrorism, but because I don’t like being treated like dirt.

It’s not just air travel, however. I went on a motorcycle tour through western Canada in 2004, trying, but failing to get to Alaska. (Wildfires kept closing the ALCAN.) Since the terrorist hype was going full bore less than three years after the World Trade Center attack, I thought it best to get a passport before crossing the border. This was before the current requirement to have a passport to return from Canada existed, but I was smart in predicting a paranoid and over-reactive government.

Crossing over to Canada was a breeze. As I drove in, there were three small buildings with drive up windows, each occupied by a Canadian official. Being the dimwit I am, I didn’t notice if they were Mounties, or some other group. There were no barricades, no armed guards, no sense of distress in the body language of anyone there. I pulled up to the window, where a cute blond gal was sitting, perhaps a little bored. I killed the bike engine.

I stated who I was, told her I was there on vacation, making my way to Alaska and showed her my drivers license and passport. The gal there didn’t even bother to stamp the passport, took a brief glance at the drivers license and then warned me that I might have trouble getting through all of the uncontrolled wildfires in British Columbia and the Yukon Territories. I thanked her for the information and motored on.

That was it.

Coming back into the US, was a far different story.

I pulled up toward the border, where several armed men shuffled about, all with the body language of paranoid watch dogs. After filing through a carefully controlled gate system, I was finally stopped under a security camera and told to kill my engine. (Note, I was not asked this on the way into Canada, I had killed the engine on my own - and would have done the same here in just a few moments.) One of the armed guards came up to me and asked where I was going. I replied that I was heading home and handed him my drivers license and passport. I can’t claim that this is an exact dialog, but it’s accurate enough…

“Where are you from?”

“Originally, or now?”

“Now.”

“Just like the drivers license says, Utah.”

“Lived there long?”

“A few years.”

“How many years?”

“Since April, ‘99.”

“Where did you live before that?”

“Indiana.”

“Why did you move to Utah?”

“Why do you care?” This was a mistake and I knew it as soon as I was done speaking.

“Why did you move to Utah, sir.” His tone was now a little tense.

“I work at the University of Utah. It was a good job offer that I couldn’t pass up.”

“So, you’re from Indiana originally?”

“No. I lived there for about 11 years. I moved there from Minnesota, where I grew up.”

“You don’t sound like you have an Indiana accent.”

“I told you, I grew up in Minnesota.”

“You don’t sound Minnesotan.” (As if this guy would know what a Minnesotan native sounds like.)

“Minnesotan’s don’t have accents, unless they live in the northern part of the state. No accent at all. That’s why we all become news announcers.” I smiled. The joke fell flat.

“Why were you in Canada?”

“I’m on vacation.”

“Where are you heading now?”

“As I’ve already stated, back home. Are we through, officer?”

“Are you carrying any food, alcohol, cigarettes or other tobacco products?”

“No.”

“Anything to declare?”

“No.”

He walked back into his armored hut, talked for a bit with another guy behind bullet proof glass, going over my drivers license and passport like I was Saddam with a shave - being sure to look up and give me the accusative glance ever few moments of talk. Finally, after deliberately wasting time for about five minutes, he came back with my ID and told me that I was “allowed” back in.

I motored back into my native country and actually wondered why I was coming back.

Our country is being converted right under our noses, into a police state. Under the guise of anti-terrorism, our liberties are being stripped, our rights are being denied and we are being assumed guilty until proven innocent.

It’s only going to get worse.