Just to update everyone who was holding their breath, wondering what I would do when I arrived at the airport, I did, in fact, opt out of the scanners and choose to be patted down.
Why? I’m not entirely sure.
Maybe it has to do with the cancer risk that, even though the odds of getting cancer from that thing are incredibly low, I was still concerned about considering that I recently lost Gilad to cancer.
Maybe it’s just a statement to the authorities, that we should not be forced to submit to invasions of privacy that we’re uncomfortable with. Granted, I submitted to a very different type of privacy invasion, but the fact that I chose to do so made it less offensive.
When I told the TSA employee I was opting out, she called over a male employee who was friendly and nice to me, despite being mildly annoyed by the fact that he was going to be spending his Thanksgiving morning handling my junk. He moved all my bags and belongings to the table right next to where he was going to pat me down, offered me a private screening room (I opted out of that as well), and told me exactly what he was going to do before he did it. Based on his composure, consistency, and respect, it’s hard to believe that the TSA doesn’t actually have an actual pat down policy. My guess is that frustrated employees may just choose not to follow it.
Either way, I’m glad that I was able to express my freedom of choice even here at the airport. Because while many will complain that the very fact that we’re searched is an un-American invasion of privacy, I’d disagree; we’re being searched for our safety. And the ability to choose how we are searched is what makes it American.
Local Natives – Jet Airliner