Airport Security: Counterintelligence

Published March 20, 2007

By Hazel Ryerson

I’m standing in a line with hundreds strangers as we all remove our belts, shoes, jackets and jewelry – no, it’s not the start of a bank heist or pornographic movie – I am at terminal C of Logan Airport.

As I place my personals in a plastic bin, I secretly pray for the safe deliverance of my contact solution through the security checkpoint.

“Ma’am, is this your bag? I need to look inside.” My heart sinks when I see my green duffle in the fleshy hands of a female security guard. She easily discovers my mascara and toothpaste packed in a porous cosmetics bag. Damn.

I am given an ultimatum: either throw out the contraband or place it in a clear Ziploc bag. I don’t have a Ziploc bag on hand – neither does anyone unless they’ve got an eighth of something that really doesn’t belong near security – so, I go into negotiation.

“How about this?” I offer up a hummus stained sandwich bag while the guard looks on coldly. She is unimpressed with my MacGyver tactics. Then, I am clued into Logan’s best scandal: outside security, sitting beside a concession stand, is a woman in a lawn chair selling $2 Ziploc baggies.

I sheepishly abandon my line and purchase a Ziploc.

I make it through security on my second attempt. I smile cynically at the security guard and hold up the baggie. She gives me a curt nod, either indicating that she has completed her job upholding necessary measures of national security or she really doesn’t give a shit about me.
Somehow, my contact solution and a book of restaurant matches go by undetected.

I spend 5 days in Chicago, wearing contact lenses and Cover Girl mascara, wondering what sort of mind-control training airport security guards undergo.

For my return flight I am back in line at the security check at O’Hare Airport. “Take off your jackets, sweaters, hoodies!” yells the security guard. He points to a young man in front of me who bashfully removes his sweatshirt to reveal a sleeveless T reading, “Myrtle Beach Spring Break – Give Your Bikini a Day Off.” The crowd smiles.

“No liquids, water, gels, aerosols!” The same security guard yells, “We got five dollar water on the other side!” I make eye contact with the guard and laugh out loud. Aquafina and Ziploc are making out like bandits.

On the other side, I take a seat at my gate. The intercom sounds off, “Attention all passengers, the Department of Homeland Security has raised the terror alert to code orange, please do not leave any baggage unattended.”

A stranger looks up from her magazine at me and says conspiratorially, “The color code is so 2002, I thought it was just a joke these days.” There’s nothing quite like bonding with strangers over absurdities.

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