Groin alarms, Limb difference and Vodka at 20,000 feet
No one likes going through airport security, it’s an unnatural act. But if you want to participate fully in society, it’s practically unavoidable.
My body is not normal. Parts of it are replaced by titanium, carbon fibre or a specialized form of biologically compatible urethane. There are precision mechanical components that let me walk and jump (sorta) and balance on ladders while changing light bulbs. Going though airport security is a bit unusual. For instance I can't really remove my shoes on command. Shoes for me are sort of like tyres - they are part of the machine. Also I light up those full body scanners - so I get flagged, patted, swabbed and asked a lot of questions. At certain borders they like to use fingerprint scanners - a couple of my fingers are made of a carbon laminated polymer. I have actually had to explain to angry agents that these can’t be scanned.
Recently I was catching a connecting flight, and due to the layout of the airport, I needed to clear security for a second time. On this particular instance, the line was full, the passengers tired and outranged, and the staff bewildered. The full body scanners were not functioning properly. The scanners were insistent that every passenger now had suspicious material located precisely in the crotch area. The screens repeatedly flashed the words "groin pat down" and provided a helpful graphic indicating where the groin could be found on the passenger. Travellers were now being ejected from the big vertical tubes, hands still in the air like they were at gun point, met by a squad of unenthusiastic TSA staff ready with blue latex gloves. Some people argued, some people submitted quietly, some people kind of liked it. It was madness and pure comedy at the same time.
For the aforementioned reasons, the big tube didn't like me at all. This resulted in my own full pat down, and extensive swabbing and testing of my hands and legs, while also being asked to balance on one foot to expose the underside of my shoes. After about five minutes of this, and despite the crotch-focused mayhem going on all around us, the security agent and his supervisor still felt they had not been sufficiently thorough with me. They indicated that they now wanted to take my artificial leg and run it through the X-ray as well!
There is a certain indignity to being asked to disassemble yourself and submit to having someone walk off with something you consider a body part. As a practical matter the request would have been near impossible to achieve without somewhere to reliably lean, perch, or hang from. A well-meaning traveller came to my aid, phone-first, hoping to capture the persecution on camera, but it was not necessary. Things got explained, everyone stayed calm, and we worked it out like humans. No problem.
The thing was, as outrageous or compromising as it all sounds, I was never at any point mad about it. The system I was moving through was designed for “normal people” doing normal things. It could be better for sure, but if you consider the volume of humans, the amount of technology, and the economic constraints involved, I totally get why they are not going to have a special program just for me and my cyborg friends. I was more concerned about the 80-year-old war veteran behind me who threatened to maim the TSA agent if he tried to pat down his groin. The agent was a big man, but the vet had the look of someone who had killed people before.
Sticking out in situations or enduring some perceived indignity doesn't make me feel diminished or persecuted at all. A life well lived is about adaptation. The way I look at it, getting upset about this sort of thing says a lot more about me than it does about other people. I know folks who are worse off than me who would agree. I remain grateful that I can participate in society, and I guess that includes being processed through airport security.
An hour later I was in the air. The gentleman sitting next to me was very upset - his vodka and tonic had too much ice. He was laying into the flight attendant about the price of the ticket, and how they should at least mix his drink right. We all had to hear about it for 20 minutes. I happily ordered a vodka and tonic myself just to spite him. I sipped my drink and thought about the old man I saw earlier. I wondered if he made his flight - either way I’m pretty sure his groin remained untouched.
