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 uppose,
gentle readers, that Archibald and Basil, our imaginary police officers
who starred in a previous examination
of racial profiling, despairing at the unrelieved decline of
the Los Angeles Police Department (the stuff for some future column),
elect to turn in their badges and seek employment in the now burgeoning
field of airline security. And further suppose that, as officers
in some new federal aviation police force, they are stationed in
the United Airlines terminal at Los Angeles International Airport.
Streaming through the security checkpoint are hundreds upon hundreds
of passengers destined for cities all over the globe. Archibald
and Basil are charged with the task of preventing anyone inclined
toward the sort of barbarity committed on September 11 from bringing
it off, and in this role they are given certain tools: They have
the usual array of magnetometers and devices for detecting explosives;
they have security cameras that can zoom in on suspected troublemakers;
and they have manifests for all the flights scheduled to depart
from their assigned terminal, on which is listed each passenger's
name, address, telephone number, and information on how and when
his airline ticket was purchased.
Presenting
themselves at the checkpoint for inspection are the following individuals:
Mrs. Mildred Middlebrow, age 71, who is returning home to Peoria,
Illinois by way of a connecting flight in Chicago. Behind her in
line is Miss Suzy Sutton, age 20, a student at USC and chapter president
of the Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority. She is bound for New York, where
she is to interview for a position as an intern with Gigantico,
purveyor of products large and small in great demand throughout
the world . Then comes Mr. Bob Baggadonuts, age 47, a million-mile
flier on United, American, Delta, and U.S. Airways, who has crisscrossed
the country many times in his career as a leading salesman for Acme
Widget, Inc. of Schenectady, New York. Last in this group of passengers
is Mr. Abdul Khalid Death-to-America Mohamed, age 25, late of Tripoli,
Baghdad, Kabul, and Daytona Beach. He is ticketed for a trip to
Washington, D.C.
Archibald and
Basil, ever vigilant, take it upon themselves to scrutinize this
little gaggle of passengers in order to ferret out any in whom might
dwell a tendency toward terrorism. "Let us take this group
aside," says Archibald, "and give them the old routine."
"Quite
right," says Basil. "Let's."
And in cursory
conversation with the group they glean a few personal tidbits from
each of them, to wit, that Mrs. Middlebrow has been in California
visiting her sister Madge, who, at age 76, recently bowled her fourth
300 game (two of which came after hip-replacement surgery); that
Miss Sutton is concerned about which shade of lipstick she might
wear to her interview so as to convey the proper corporate image
at Gigantico; that Mr. Baggadonuts is most enthused about the new
line of products soon to be introduced by Acme Widgets, Inc. of
Schenectady, New York, the increased sales of which he hopes will
propel him past arch-rival Ernie Dillard (who thinks he's so damn
smart) on the sales chart and earn him the new Cadillac being awarded
to the man who moves the most widgets in the fourth quarter; and
finally that Mr. Abdul Khalid Death-to-America Mohamed is in the
United States on a student visa and has been taking flying lessons
at various locations around the country. "I know how to fly
them," Mr. Mohamed declares, "but not how to land them."
Studying the
manifests, our officers learn that Mrs. Middlebrow bought her ticket
online some weeks ago, paying for it with her AARP Visa card. Miss
Sutton's ticket was purchased by her father, a physician in Newport
Beach, who charged it to his American Express account. Mr. Baggadonuts's
ticket was purchased by the in-house travel coordinator at Acme
Widgets, Inc. of Schenectady, New York. Mr. Mohamed's one-way ticket
was paid for with cash earlier today at the No Questions Asked travel
agency on Century Boulevard, a few blocks east of the airport. The
phone number listed is that of a pay phone outside the liquor store
down the street from the travel agency.
Attuned to
recent events as they are, Archibald and Basil take a professional
interest in Mr. Mohamed. "There's something about that one,"
says Archibald, "that warrants further inquiry."
"Quite
right," says Basil, "but we must take care not to offend."
"Yes.
In order to achieve an appearance of objectivity, we must annoy,
delay, and inconvenience even those passengers who any fool can
see pose no threat whatsoever, or else risk an affront to our peace-loving
Arab and Muslim friends and neighbors."
So, in the
interest appearing evenhanded, Archibald and Basil proceed to rifle
the belongings of the first three passengers, relieving Mrs. Middlebrow
of her sewing kit, Miss Sutton of her emery board, and Mr. Baggadonuts
of a wallet photograph depicting him holding a shotgun in one hand
and a just-bagged Canada goose in the other. "We have zero
tolerance for weapons here in the airport these days," Archibald
admonishes. "You really should have known better."
So much effort
have Archibald and Basil devoted to combing the recesses of the
first three passengers' luggage, purses, and pockets that little
time remains for searching Mr. Abdul Khalid Death-to-America Mohamed's
carry-on bag. "I'll miss my plane," he says. "Allah
will rain down destruction on you ignorant tools of the Great Satan
and crush you like insects if you do not release me this instant!"
"Well,
there's certainly no need for all that," says Archibald, handing
over the man's bag. "Sorry to be a bother. On your way, then.
And please do have a pleasant flight."
"That
was a close shave," says Basil, watching the man storm off.
"He might have made a complaint against us."
"Seemed
harmless enough," says Archibald. "What's the worst that
could happen?"
(*Jack
Dunphy is the author's nom de cyber. The opinions expressed are
his own and almost certainly do not reflect those of the LAPD management
.)
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