My Excellent TSA Adventure


In late September, I paid a visit to my sister in Santa Barbara. Having heard the horror stories about the ultra-vigilant guardians of our skies, I was leery about going through security. I hadn’t flown for two years, and thought the process might have gotten scarier. As I prepared to depart from Phoenix, however, things went without a hitch. Shoes off, all the contents of my pockets in a plastic container, arms over my head for a nudie shot (the only new, unpleasant feature) — all routine.

Sky Harbor is a huge airport. Tens of thousands of people pass through it daily, and everybody is too busy to hassle a vaguely Nordic-looking middle-aged lady. Nobody in his right mind would mistake me for a terrorist, but in any facility of such size, I would expect to encounter big government at its most oppressive. Santa Barbara’s airport, on the other hand, is small and rather quaint. Its sole terminal looks something like a high school building. I anticipated that my pass through security, on the way home, would be equally uneventful.

I could not have been more wrong. Evidently the TSA agents at tiny airports demand to be taken seriously. They aren’t going to let anybody think she’s dealing with Andy Taylor or Barney Fife.

As my sister stood and watched behind the barricade, a reassuring maternal presence seeing me off, I presented my boarding pass and picture I.D. I don’t drive, so the state of Arizona has issued me an all-purpose identification card. The agent squinted at it as if it were written in Chinese. He turned it over several times, perused it front, back, and upside down, and called over another agent. They both behaved as if it were the most extraordinary thing they’d ever seen.

They informed me that the card displayed no expiration date. I informed them that this was a general identification card, not a driver’s license, and that my identity wouldn’t expire. I wasn’t aware the TSA had made it a rule that only drivers could fly. I didn’t come right out and say this, of course. Barney Fifes never tolerate so much as a peep of impertinence.

My sister stepped around to the side of the barricade. For a moment, I wondered if she was going to step over it. She had plenty to say. “It was good enough to get her here,” I specifically remember her telling the agents. “I don’t know why it shouldn’t be good enough to get her home.”

They looked peeved. They couldn’t keep her from flying, because she wasn’t going anywhere. Nor did they offer any reason to reject her argument. But they kept on brooding over the card.

He turned it over several times, perused it front, back, and upside down, and called over another agent. They both behaved as if it were the most extraordinary thing they’d ever seen.

Agent Number Two took it over to a different station and called someone on the phone. He came back, gave me my card, made some officious little squiggles on my boarding pass and waved me through. My sister and I were relieved. I would not be relegated to non-personhood.

I assume the agent called Arizona and verified that this was indeed a state-issued ID. I was not aware, before this incident, that non-drivers presented any greater threat to airline security than, say, terrorists who drive themselves to airports. Evidently, however, the very fact that we don’t drive means we are shady characters. Perhaps it is petty for me to raise this question, but is every adult who doesn’t drive now potentially subject to such a hassle before being permitted to board a flight?

What is it, specifically, that casts a shadow over us? Is it that, in this small way, we don’t conform to the norm? Is it that our form of identification requires TSA personnel to think? I’ve put these questions to a number of my friends. Their response has been that I, like a typical libertarian, enjoy nitpicking about government oppression. That I find it under every rock.

I suppose I do get testier about authoritarian silliness than a lot of people might. But surely there’s no harm in asking the questions. In retrospect, it bothers me less that the incident happened than that I felt I didn’t dare ask these questions to the agents at the airport. At one time I would have, but now — as if by animal instinct — I’d be afraid to.

What is happening to us, as a country? As a people raised to presume ourselves free from such cringe-inducing intimidation? This is the question that haunts me. Though what happened to me amounted to no more than a minor irritant, I must admit that I was genuinely afraid. My guts knotted up within me in a way to which I’m unaccustomed.

Would a terrorist feel that sort of fear in that sort of a situation? Or is the procedure designed primarily to intimidate law-abiding citizens like me? I don’t want to become accustomed to that feeling. I wonder if eventually it will, for all of us, become routine.

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Welcome to the land of government mindlessness. I have a drivers license, but do not use it for identification. On domestic flights, I present my military retiree identification card. I have had numerous experiences similar to your's at large and small airports. TSA agents have told me that my military ID card is not a valid form of identification many times.
If I ask 1. Is the US government a recognized government? 2. Is the Department of Defense a recognized agency of the US government? 3. Is a document entitled "United States Uniformed Services Identification Card" a form of identification issued by a government agency? I usually get a blank look and/or "It's not your drivers license."


Lori, I can only sympathize with your experience. However, you had a relatively minor run in with airline authority. I tried to board a plane (again, a return flight) when I was told my granddaughter's auto safety seat was not approved for airline use. They tried to tell me that it didn't meet safety standards when all FIVE of the other legs of the trip met with no such nonsense.

My daughter had purchased a full fare seat for my granddaughter. We were, however, unable to put her in the seat for this leg of the journey because the airline insisted she be held by my daughter, as if that were safer than having her strapped in the seat. I was informed that I would be arrested if I complained further.

Lesson: Some people REALLY take their authority seriously. Even without TSA, I'm certain that some "captains" (crews of boats, trains & planes) are just looking to exert some additional control. For a perfect example of this watch "The Caine Mutiny" with Humphrey Bogart, an excellent example of tedium turned tyrannical.

Fred Mora

Your reaction was normal. As an unimportant member of the general public, you are a subject, and the TSA agents are the ruling class' servants.

In the Middle Ages, some of the castle guards liked to harass the peasants coming to town to sell their cattle. The lords didn't prevent the harassment, as it reminded the peasants that they were mere subjects, at the mercy of the lords' whims. The peasants feared the guards, for there was no redress against their excesses. That's the normal order of things throughout history.

The American system briefly abolished this and made us free for two hundred years. We're slowly going back to normal. Under the guise of progress, of course.

Disclaimer: I don't find it pleasant either.

Bob Straub

You find it under every rock because it *is* under every rock, just about.

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