Geezer Search!

Well, how cool, thinks I whilst standing in the security maze at SFO. A nicely printed sign informs us passers-through that if you are 75 or older when you go through the TSA security process, you can leave your shoes on as well as not having to remove your jacket. Again, well how cool, another advantage of reaching a codger/coot/geezer (alphabetical order; choose one) age of seniority and/or senility.

Before I go on let it be known that I’m so frickin’ white-bread and non-threatening looking that I am very seldom the subject of any other-than-ordinary scrutiny and usually pass through most of those lines with no problem other than ruffling my hair a little bit because it’s such a breeze. I stay calm; look meek and harmless and think sweet thoughts because I know the mere appearance of sweat, nervous or not, make you an object of suspicion.

So at SFO I left my jacket and my shoes in place thinking I had put one over on my fellow travelers who, all around me, were doffing their shoes and outerwear. Talk about drawing focus! Those TSA people were not only all over my case but all over me!

<~~~anonymous geezer; not me!

A uniformed symbol of male aggression hurried over, looked me up and down and growled, “Well, at least zip up your jacket.” When I was ushered into the little chamber-of-horrors I was instructed curtly to stand up straight, but not too straight, while my innards got zapped by the electronic eye-of-suspicion. Upon exiting the other side I was stopped, thoroughly wanded (especially down there by those dang shoes) and, yes, actually patted down in a manner I judged to be just this side of being groped. My carry-on bag was also thoroughly searched.

So it turns out I didn’t save one darned second of time and I certainly had no advantage over those folks who went through the required “normal” shoe-removal and partial disrobing. I still had to put my belt, keys, cellphone and loose change in the little plastic dish to be inspected separately. So what did I gain? Not much. So what did I learn? Only the knowledge that on my next trip I’m not going to presume I’m anything special and I’ll pretend to be 65 or slightly under and not annoy the public servants in charge of making everybody feel like cattle without any personal rights. Sometimes it pays to be a geezer but the advantage needs to be used wisely.