Hawaii is primarily a tourist economy. And despite the dropping dollar making travel to Hawaii more attractive to foreign visitors, many are staying away simply because of the security hassles getting through US airports, security hassles which haven’t slowed down the drug smugglers (and therefore the terrorists) one tiny bit, so far as I can see. As one friend in Britain put it, how can anyone be expected to relax on a tropical Pacific island when you are treated like a POW trying to get there!
But the ludicrousness of the security measures reached a new nadir with my recent move from Hawaii to the US mainland. Having endured the invasive searches, the shouted orders of the chief of security (“You will remove your shoes. You will put all your metal in the plastic trays. You will raise your arms as you walk through this gate. You will…..”) , and the invasive body searches (“You want to maybe put some lubricant on that nightstick, buddy?”), I was relieved to finally be through the security checks and able to relax before boarding my fight.
That was when I noticed a small brown purse in the chair next to me at the boarding area.
Now, I tend to be an honorable person. It’s hard these days with the current administration setting such a bad example for the rest of us to follow, but I guess I am a bit of a throwback, so I picked up the purse and after a brief announcement to the immediate vicinity failed to identify the purse’s owner, walked over to the information booth in the concourse to turn the purse in to lost and found.
BIG MISTAKE.
The man at the information booth refused to take the purse. New security rule. The Airport Security people have to accept lost and found items. Okay, no problem, I just figured I would leave the purse on the counter at the info booth until someone from security shows up to take it.
WRONG.
I am told by the man at the information booth that the new airport security rules require me to identify myself to turn in a lost item! And, having made myself known to the airport staff, should I dare attempt to leave before providing such identification, the Security people will make sure the rest of my day is bad, possibly even preventing me from boarding the aircraft.
A security guard passes by. Salvation! No. Seems that only a supervisor can accept a lost item and my identification. No problem, call a supervisor. Problem, no radio. It seems that the Airport Security Department spent so much money on those machines that let people look at you naked that they don’t have enough radios for all the guards, which does not reassure me as to the effectiveness of the guards wandering the concourse. Finally, a security supervisor is called using the phone at the information booth. The Supervisor arrives. But, he has not brought the correct form with which to accept the lost item and my identification. He has to go back to the office and come back with the correct form. I am beginning to understand why travelers are requested to arrive at the airport three hours ahead of their flight.
Knowing that the more time passes the less likely we are to locate the owner of the purse, I offer the suggestion that we simply open the purse, search for ID and make a page. Ah, but the new security rule is that the purse cannot be opened because it might be OSAMASECRETTERRORISTWEAPON!
Wait a second! Didn’t the owner of this purse come through the same security screening as the rest of us? Wasn’t the purse X-rayed just to get here? According to the Security Supervisor, they cannot know that for a fact! This amounts to an admission that all the invasive body searches, X-rays, and so forth, CAN BE BYPASSED.
When I make that conclusion clear to the Security Supervisor, he relents and we open the purse. Inside is nothing that could be construed as a terrorist weapon. We find quite a bit of cash, a very hip cellphone with built-in camera, and credit cards and ID for the purse’s owner. Also some photos of what are obviously grandchildren. We are, roughly forty minutes after finding the purse, finally about to make a public page for the owner, when the owner shows up, saving us all from death-by-paperwork.
If I hadn’t been living on an island I think I would have been better off going by train.
My apologies to the owner of the purse, but the next time you lose it don’t be surprised if whoever finds it just pockets the cash, maxes out the credit cards, makes a bunch of long distance calls on the cell phone, and throws the remainder in the nearest trash can, because that will be far easier on the soul than trying to return it!
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