The terrorists won (again)

My most recent experience with airport security at Ontario has made me aware of a new and surprising phenomenon that I call "shampoo paranoia." Because of the latest thwarted terrorist attempt wherein extremists used either gels, liquids, aerosols, or possibly all three in plans for an explosive airplane-destroying cocktail, our right to carry toothpaste in whatever the hell bag we choose has been summarily revoked. Now, I'm not saying that this is in itself necessarily bad. However...

I went through airport security at Ontario and went through the motions -- shoes off, laptop in the bin, metal pocket items in the bin, the whole nine yards. I knew I had some contraband, but I figured they wouldn't notice and I'd be able to maintain my normal hygiene routine that night without checking a bag. Little did I know that I was wearing my terrorist pants. The new shorts that I bought (and got a great deal on, I might add) have the unusual side effect of looking to a metal detector like what nuclear explosion looks to a heat-seeking missile. So, after three tries through the metal detector (three strikes, you're out?) I was herded into this scary little box made of windows. It honestly made me feel more claustrophobic than anything else, a prisoner awaiting sentencing for my pants-related misdoings. The worst part about it, though, is that my first thought upon entering the little cage was, "Oh God, they're going to find my toothpaste." Is it so bad that I like Arm & Hammer and that it doesn't come in travel size? So anyway, I'm taken out of the little box and marched over to the table where my personal items are rifled-through a little and I am wanded approximately five times. Every single rivet in my cargo shorts set the wand off. I tried to smile at the TSA guy to reassure him that I was not carrying seven pistols and extra magazines. What a horror!

So, they find my toothpaste (0.7 ounces over the maximum -- if that doesn't make them suspicious, what does?) and my shampoo, which actually was within the size constraint but, sadly, not in a plastic bag. (Only too late did I think to ask the guard to pretend that it was in a plastic bag but that I took it out and threw it away or some other related story. Either this plastic bag business is a silly rule or Ziploc has perfected an explosive-neutralizing design.) Off they go, I hope, to someone who needs it (possibly arriving passengers, but most likely the trash). Dejected, defeated, I redo my belt and stuff all of my life back into my carry-on and go on my way, another victim of overbearing security.

That's when I realize that I'm actually quite fortunate. You see, while the TSA guy was making such a ruckus about my shampoo bottle and its lack of Ziploc, he completely overlooked the items it sat on top of: a pair of tweezers, nail clippers with one of those folding stabby instruments, and a 4-inch long screwdriver. Before the era of shampoo paranoia, these items would have been found and I would have been taken to another room and summarily sentenced to full body cavity search. But apparently nail-clippers aren't dangerous anymore.

There is a real message here and no, it's not "airport security is incompetent," even thought that's true. The real problem with security is that we must post our sentries on the wall, be ever vigilant, and even subject our own to suspicion and search; the enemy has only to wait for the opportune moment of weakened defense, find the soft spot in the wall, and slip quietly past our guards and searchlights. We have a tough defense, and it has had its successes, but no defense can work forever. We have to find another way.