Airport Peepshow

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What you are
about to read is true…

The names have
been changed to be more appropriate…

This is a tale
about an individual's struggle against the fear-mongering forces
of the collectivist state.

It is a short
tale, but it carries a message that will resonate with millions.

The Cast of
Characters:

Gatekeeper
— Height: unknown from a sitting position. Adept with a hologram
illuminating flashlight, and quick to mark up a boarding pass with
any weird squiggly or zig-zag that might make the amateur terrorist
nervous.

Gestapo Member
#1 — A tall, older man with thinning grey hair, a shiny badge, and
a sense of no nonsense urgency about him.

Gestapo Member
#2 — Rotund. 35–40 years old. Goatee and proud owner of multiple
chins. Very possible that GM #2 read Mark Sisson's lesser-known
book, The Primal Demeanor.

Gestapo Female
— Mid 40's. Quick with the x-ray bag scanner, and even quicker to
rummage through the bag of anyone who raises a red flag.

Me — An open-minded,
free-thinking, individual. Who, with the help of other freedom lovers,
has become a well-established seer of all things “bogus” with anything
our central government tries to force the masses to do.

Our story begins
on a balmy Midwestern morning in Columbus, OH. I had planned a short
getaway to New York City for an overdue visit with a very good friend.
I arrived at the airport early because I had known about the addition
of the X-Ray “backscatter” machines just a month before. I knew
anything was possible, especially since I was going to refuse to
be the subject of a peep show should I be asked.

Few people
are aware that Columbus is well known in some circles for being
one of the top test markets in the country for the fast food industry.
Columbus has a diverse demographic; the people here come in all
shapes, sizes, colors, and creeds. If someone in a fast food test
kitchen develops a snappy new dish, off to Columbus it goes! (fingers
and clogged arteries crossed)

So it didn't
surprise me that the TSA would choose Columbus as a “test market”
for their nudi-booth scanners, since many of the TSA employees most
likely got their start making barely edible food, fast.

(Writer's note:
Based upon multiple years with a large fast food corporation, I
possess a self-issued license to mock those in the industry, as
well as the industry itself.)

As I neared
the labyrinth of ropes that one must navigate before the inquisition
begins, I briefly thought of the line that forms before any good
roller coaster. Unfortunately, this time I didn't have the option
of purchasing a funnel cake once the ride was over. Many people
were being herded into the line like cattle in a stockyard. I took
a deep breath, channeled my inner bovine, and fell in like a good
boy.

At the end
of the labyrinth, sitting atop his state-issued stool, resting his
upper body on his state-issued podium, loomed the Gatekeeper. As
I approached him, pangs of frustration and annoyance began to well
up from deep within my being. The years of reading the words of
freedom icons such as Rockwell, Paul, Shaffer and Suprynowicz (among
many, many others), had made me allergic to anything that the state
has tried to do. I have often attempted to speak to anyone who would
listen about the concept of free will, individualism, and love for
the fellow man. Four years ago, it felt as if everyone was aurally
challenged, but after the economic collapse, the very one that Ron
Paul and others of the “Austrian” mind forecasted, I started to
sense the tides turning a bit in the favor of freedom. There are
more people questioning the necessity of the census, more people
wondering where money actually comes from, more people questioning
the propagandistic saber rattling found on all cable news channels.
Simply put, more people asking good questions!

I reached the
front of the line and the Gatekeeper took a long look at my ID and
boarding pass. My first name, Ladislaus, always trips them up. It
is not a normal name, like “Steve” or “Bob." I believe I am often
asked a banal question just to hear if I have an accent. This time
was no different.

“Off to New
York, Huh?”

“Yes, sir.”

(Long, intense
look into my eyes)

“Enjoy your
trip.”

Then, three
squiggles on the boarding pass, and I was given passage to the next
layer of the Inferno.

I had mentally
prepared for what I was to see next. Mr.
Rockwell had posted a blog
a few days prior about this very
same set up. To the left of me was the standard metal detector,
and on the right, the infamous “backscatter radiation” machine.
To my slight surprise, there were many people who seemed very interested
in testing the new security device. I mentioned earlier that the
freedom movement was catching on, but we still have a lot of work
to do! There is always a bit of a sting that accompanies the “real-world”
realization that not everyone reads the LRC Blog.

I walked a
direct line to the metal detector side and began the obtrusive process
of becoming “metal detector friendly.” I watched as my shoes, belt,
cell phone, loose change, ring, laptop, laptop battery, keys, and
carry-on bags worked their way down the conveyor belt while I awaited
passage through the metal detector.

At this point,
Gestapo Member #1 called out to me.

“Sir, this
line over here is open; you are welcome to walk through this one.”

I adamantly
responded, “No thank you. I do not wish to travel through that line.”

He replied
more intensely, “You are declining the search?”

“Yes, sir,
I am.”

At this point
he spoke into his shoulder mounted radio and said, “Male full body
search!”

He then turned
to me and said rather sternly, like a father who wasn’t messing
around, “Wait here.”

So I waited,
for about three minutes. In the mean time, they had found “something”
in the x-ray process of my carry-on. Gestapo Lady shouted, “Whose
bag is this? Whose bag is this?!”

I leaned over
the divider and told her it was mine, and that I was awaiting a
pat-down.

Gestapo Member
#2 then approached. He wore blue surgical gloves and a smirk on
his face. Something about him told me he was not the president of
the chess club during his youth.

He said to
me, “You know this would go a lot quicker if you would only stand
in the backscatter machine and be done with it.”

“I will not
do that, sir. I still possess my dignity. No one will be seeing
anything through my clothes.”

“Well, now
I have to touch you all over your body, will you still have dignity
then?”

“Do what you
have to, but I will never walk through that machine.”

The pat-down
station was out in the open and facing a restaurant. I was told
to stretch out my arms and stand still. People looked up from their
breakfast to observe the action. I couldn't help but think that
those who resisted were subject to an attempted public demoralization.
Of course, I had yet to retrieve my belt; so my shorts nearly fell
off when he pulled on them. At least 20 people now know what sort
of underwear I prefer.

“Now I am going
to pat down your crotch.” At this moment, something inside of me
snapped. I have read hundreds of tales of woe from fellow freedom
lovers over the years, tales of run-ins with the tax feeding pestilence
of the state. I have felt for these people, but I have never truly
understood the feeling until this very moment. As his meat hooks
groped for phantom weaponry, my face flushed, and I seethed. I then
reminded myself to remain calm and stoic. I saw no reason to get
detained or even worse, tased.

I took a deep
breath and remembered that humor is really the only medicine for
me in awkward situations like these. I nearly commented about his
touch being similar to my prom date. I thought against it though,
having faith that this nightmare would be over soon.

After he realized
I wasn’t hiding any weapons of death, or so much as a sharpened
pencil, I was made to sit down and await the full search of my carry-on
bag.

They swabbed
it for explosive material…

They then scanned
it again…

What was the
BIG FIND?

I had neglected
to remove a 3 oz. container of face lotion. Yes, a desire for a
moisturized face does not happy a Gestapo member make.

Gestapo Lady
tersely said to me, “Sir, are you aware that there is a bottle of
lotion in your bag?”

“No, I am sorry;
I forgot it was in there, but interesting that you knew it was a
bottle of lotion and not something else.”

She said nothing
to that comment, but then spritely told me, “I am going to scan
your bag again so you can quickly be on your way.”

The 3rd
x-ray of my bag yielded no red flags.

“Here you are.
Have a great flight.”

I had no response.

As
I turned and walked away, shoes untied, shorts askew, personal belongings
awkwardly held in a disheveled clump in my arms, a wide smile came
across my face. I found solace in the knowledge that this sort of
behavior will not last forever. Sure, there are a lot of
people who wish to remain “plugged in” to the system. The system
that perpetuates sloth, fear, and ignorance. The system whose days
are numbered. Freedom and individualism will win out because there
is no better feeling than self-empowerment. I thought about the
constant increase in traffic to websites like LewRockwell.com, as
well as a documented intensified interest in the writings of Jefferson,
Mises and Rothbard. I look forward, with fondness, to the societal
“correction” that is brewing across this country, and many others.
I feel renewed strength to be patient with the masses of people
who continue to live their lives in an angst-laden haze. It is just
not their time to awaken yet, but soon it will be, and I will be
there, eagerly waiting to help them understand for themselves that
the real truth lies within themselves, and not in the hands of a
tyrannical central government.

The ideas of
freedom will triumph.

July
23, 2010

Lad
C. Hudac [send him mail]
is the former "2002 World's Fastest Big Mac Assembler"
and "Crewperson of the Year" for the McDonald's corporation.
Following a brief stint in corporate hell, life rewarded him with
three years of experience as a professional singer on cruise ships
and as a world traveler. He now resides in Columbus, OH where he
sells industrial chemicals for his family's business.

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