...and a great big "Fuck You" to the TSA

Let’s try this again:

I just got home from a long and somewhat stressful trip. After flying up to Austin, Palikia and I were lucky enough to meet up with some fellow Dopers. Good food, great company, bats were seen, and pictures were taken.

Sadly, the next day we had to jump in the rental car and drive to Wichita, for the burial of Palikia’s father-- my last grandparent. Things went fairly smoothly, and many more pictures were taken.

So anyways, we drove back to Austin, and got on a plane this afternoon. Perhaps you can see where this story is heading…

After landing in Harlengen, when we gathered up our checked luggage, I noticed one of those blue tags on my suitcase. Sure enough, upon cutting the tag off, there was a note from the Transportation Security Administration sitting right on top of my now wrinkled clothing:

NOTIFICATION OF BAGGAGE INSPECTION

Thanks for the note, you fucking thief. It wasn’t even a nice fucking camera. I don’t even give a shit about it, I can buy another one. But I never had the chance to download the fucking pictures I took! I hope you enjoy them-- A bunch of cool folks in Austin, and my goddamn grandfather’s fucking funeral. Thanks a lot, dickheads.

Now I get to fill out form SF95, which is what I’m supposed to use to file any loss or damage claims. Right. And if we all think happy thoughts and clap, maybe Tinkerbell will bring my camera back.

If I had the energy, I’d be more creative with the obscenity, but right now I’m just too tired and pissed off.

Shit.

I had my baggage inspected by TSA.

They went through my shave kit and opened my bottle of Old Spice (hey, my true love likes it). This would have been ok, except that they negleted to close my bottle of Old Spice. And my bag was an Old Spice-smelling motherfucker. All of my clothes REEKED. My first stop was to the laundromat.

My condolences.

Misery loves company. You are not alone:

Who Pays Now For Bags Rifled At Airport? - 30 March 2003

Security May Have Lapsed With Screeners - 16 May 2003

TSA Under Pressure To Stop Baggage Theft - 29 June 2003

Surge In Reported Thefts From Baggage Under TSA - 08 September 2003

What is more disturbing is the above links offer a pattern (just look at the article dates) that the problem continues to exist and very little, if anything, is being done to eliminate it.

Here’s my little story about the TSA, and why we’re still doomed.
Right before the deadline for all screeners to be federal employees, the TSA came to town, lookin for a bit of help. I, being a former Federal employee, in a law enforcement capacity no less, as well as being a trained Paramedic, Firefighter, Arson Investigator, and all around decent chap, decided to check out the opportunities offered in this brand new red tape factory.

 I've discovered one thing about the Federal Government, they only do things big. When they fuck up, they do it right, and they don't stop fucking up until they've found a new, and better, more expensive way to fuck up. The TSA,  despite it's youth, is no exception.

 When I get to the testing site, there are wackenhut security guards (not TSA employees, mind you, but private, civilian security guards) taking peoples' phones, pagers, badges (a lot of cops and firemen showed up) and other assorted items before checking them in. Once you got in though, hoo boy...spit and polish all the way. Official looking men and women, in official looking clothing, mostly in muted shades of brown, and the obligatory 50 something black woman with the wild hairdo and the boisterous voice, herding me and my fellow contestants alphabetically into groups of chairs. 

 Whence seated, we were given a 23.7 minute monotone lecture about the days' activities, and how we would be taken into custody, stripped naked, beaten, publicly berated, not to mention thouroughly audited by the IRS,  for drifting outside the parameters set by the TSA, regarding our behaviour. When they were satisfied that we were sufficiently toeing the line, we were given our schedules, and waited in our groups to be called. 

 Backstory; the best, and most wild-eyed conversations took place in those chairs, suffice it to say, that there are people mentally unable to tie their own shoes, rooting through your bags at the airport. Those people are now getting a check from the government to do so. There were some folks I talked to that were candidates for the laughing academy easily five years before the TSA, and these maniacs are now fingering your underwear and getting touchy-feely with your t-shirts.

 As I waited and waited, I began to feel a sense of dread, a sense that something was about to go horribly wrong. Call it what you will, but something was amiss. Sure enough, the computers that they were using to administer the tests to the future of the safety of air travel, had not only gone down, but had done so in such a catastrophic manner, that the days' events would be postponed until the following day. As we began to reverse the entry process, and the majority of the miscreants and malcontents and the rest of us decent chaps and chapettes made our way to the exit, someone from the back of the faclity screamed something unintelligible to the human ear. Mr. Brown (or so i called him) translated for us humans, and said aloud "It's FIXED, EVERY BODY GET BACK IN HERE." A collective groan erupted above the group of the weary, the downtrodden, and the insane. Back we go.  Back. Though the phalanx of dimwitted Wackenhut guards. Back. Through the malfunctioning metal detectors. Back. To the cadre of muted brown suits and sensible shoes.  

 We somehow made it through the next seven hours, the lot of us, but what I witnessed during that time, makes it clear to me that we are in fact doomed. 

 Some examples, if you will permit me...

There was one man, his hame was Bob. Bob sweated, A LOT. He had a missing pinky on his right hand. He lost it cooking at a family reunion, or so he claims. Bob is a veteran of the armed forces. Despite the fact that he claims to have never seen combat, the nervous twitch of his facial nerves every seventeen seconds, and the odd thousand yard stare belies a panic i’ve seen only in seasoned combat vets, fresh off the board into the deep end.

Then there was Tyrell. Tyrell, or 'T' as the three pound medallion that hung from the vehicle tow chain around his neck clearly advertised, had just gotten his GED, after a stint in Juvenile detention. The 'thuglife' tattoo on his right forearm, had apparently made Tyrell a shoe in for the job, or so he claimed, at least. Using his logic, the TSA would want thugs working for them, since thugs knew how 'motherfuckers like these motherfuckers think'.

I took solace at the possibility.

Then came Darryl.

Darryl had what ever eye condition causes both eyes to look in different directions, sorta like Jillian Barbarie, only worse. I thought to myself that Darryl was just the guy for the job, I mean you can find a guy like that who can watch two directions at once, THAT my friends, is value added.

Tamika I genuinely liked. She was a tough-as-nails former army corporal, whose hitch in the army was predicated by her beating a student at her high school half to death with a road barricade.
Apparently disrespect was much more costly these days. The thing about Tamika I liked though, aside from her decidedly rubenesque frame (to which I am generally attracted) was her ability to cut through the bullshit. One glance would let you know this underpaid government functionary was not to be trifled with.

Finally, there was John. John was a middle aged man in a slightly blue cardigan sweater, glasses on a string, and unwashed brown pants. John was a truly frightening individual. He spoke softly and rapidly, often without so much as one word making any sense at all. He had at least a dozen nervous ticks I could make out without being too obvious. The worst of which was the constant drumming of the fingers on the piece of worn out cardboard kept in his pocket. The cardboard was plain, no writing, no printing, no nothing. When the drumming stopped, the caressing of the happy ball started. The happy ball was a yellow chime ball with a magic marker happy face scrawled upon it. It soothed John, that was a good thing.

The stories can go on, I've got several more, but the hour is late, so I'll cut to the chase...

At the end of the day, Mr. Brown, or Number 2, as I affctionately called him, would call your name to the makeshift desk. Once at the desk, the Whoopi Goldberg clone would give you a packet of information to fill out for your return trip tomorrow, where you would be given a physical exam location, and barring failure of that, an assignment and uniforms.

John. Darryl. Tyrell and Bob got packets.

Tamika and I didn’t.

We’re doomed.

Just a side note, if you report any sort of electronics, cameras or jewelry stolen, they won’t reimburse you for them. If you read the fine print, it usually says they are not responsible for these items. If you want monetary compensation, you need to change the stolen item from camera to shoes…then they’ll pay. I don’t recommend doing this because it’s illegal, and I certainly never did it, even when they stole my camera…

Wouldn’t it be creepy if those people filling out SF95 claim forms were “tagged” in the TSA’s computer system? Then they could hassle you more on your subsequent trips!

Sorry. I’m just having a 1984 moment.

That really sucks, Darth Nader. Hopefully other people will have photos they’ll give you copies of.

My last experience with the TSA was with a pleasant, courteous, polite young man who was searching my bag for a contraband pair of blade-1/2"-long scissors that were in a manicure kit I’d bought and stuck in my bag without even opening. With blunt points that couldn’t hurt a marshmallow. But I will say that he was very careful not to mess my stuff up. Of course, the fact that I was standing in front of him and outweighed him by a few pounds probably had something to do with it.

It’s the guys in the back room that scare me. I don’t check ANYTHING but clothes any more.

And this is why, in all my years of flying, I’ve never put anything valuable in my check-in luggage unless I had no other choice. Between who knows what happening to my bags, and who knows who having access to them, I’ve always figured “better safe than sorry”.

I’m sorry you had to learn that lesson too late, Darth Nader. :frowning:


<< Help support helpless victims of computer error. >>

More good news about TSA:

Thanks for “working out” your kinks on the general public! Hey, it’s only security for large vehicles filled with fuel, and the personal belongings of everyone who travels on a major class of transportation!

Oh, and sorry about the loss of your camera and photos, Darth. :frowning:

I’ve only checked my bags once…many years ago. And that experience sucked so bad I vowed never to check a bag again. And I won’t. If I have an extended trip to make, I’m sending my stuff ahead of time. Through the mail. Fuck these losers. Sorry for all your troubles, you wayfaring travelers. I cannot stress the concept of carry-on enough.

When I was a kid, my grandparents got on a nonstop flight from New Orleans to Denver. Their bags, somehow, wound up in Baltimore. When they got them 2 weeks later, the bags looked like they’d been run over by a steamroller and anything that could’ve broken had.

This is part of the reason I’d never check anything.

Well, I agree with most everything in this thread. But what I want to know is where you guys recommending never to check anything (except what absolutely must be checked) are every time someone who flies once every 2 or 3 years starts fighting with me over those “business dumbasses” like myself who bring their roller bags on the plane, mainly because we’re tired of having our valuables stolen with impunity by “security”? :confused:

Note they don’t cover medicine in the fine print too. Lots of help when my bags are broken into and my insulin and syringes are stolen. :mad:

Sorry to hear :frowning:

I’m wondering though: why would you take pictures of a funeral?

Maybe you mean you took pics of the family afterwards back at the house eating casseroles and Jello salad?

Don Young (R-what a surprise-AK), our not-so illustrious asshole in the House, and head of the Transportation Committee, was the author of the TSA. He is now backpedalling frantically to keep his name from being associated with this bunch of thugs. He’s also recanted his support of the Patriot Act, since that looks like it’s going to be a courtroom trainwreck for years to come.

Please feel free to contact dear Don at his website to voice your displeasure with the TSA. Really. Do it.

SnoopyFan, that more or less right. But there were some pictures taken at the cemetary. A great deal of family members reside there now, and I had pics of headstones, flowers, and such.

What really pisses me off was the fact it was cheap camera. I’m sure they had better ones available than mine to yoink.

An even more chilling TSA story…

Having nothing to do with theft.

Down in Disney last May Lady Chance had her wallet stolen (so she thought…we later found it in a souvenir bag).

So, with no ID and no backing information she managed to talk her way past the TSA screener, his supervisor, and some guardsmen.

When confronted with the problem they shunted her to the ‘VIP inspection’ so she could have the same treatment the pilots get. She had some questions asked, then was passed through. The guys in pilots outfits didn’t even have that.

Security my ass. If a real terrorist wanted to break that security I’m thinking it wouldn’t be hard. So all we’re accomplishing is making sure half-assed threats are stopped and innocent people are inconvenienced and stolen from.

Good job, guys. Good job.

One lesson I learned was to keep photo IDs separate. I keep my driver’s license in my regular wallet with my cash and that stuff. I keep my military and student IDs in my Palm Pilot case. If I lose one (or forget one), it’s not the end of the world.

If LC has an old license, she might keep it in a side pocket of her purse.

Also, when travelling, I keep my ID in a pants pocket (if I’m wearing pants with pockets) so that I have it if I’m separated from my purse during a security check.

Robin

When I was waiting in Houston, I heard the following announcement many times before boarding my connecting flight: “If you have your ID ready, please put it away. We don’t want to see it.” Rules are changing daily, and not consistent from airport to airport.

More than ever, I feel that the real “balls-to-the-wall-motherfucker” threats to my freedom are being generated inside my own country by it’s own deluded citizens.

please note that although I too hate the way TSA is operating the security, the bag you checked and went through TSA is done in the open. And then it takes a magic ride down to the bowels of the earth.

Prior to this continued invasion of privacy, the trolls in the baggage areas were very adept at opening any locks etc and going through luggage. I think the TSA rule of not locking things makes it easy to get at your camera and other goodies now. I am amazed that these monsters don’t get more stuff. I thought there was a way to have them plastic wrap your stuff?

I am sorry fo your loss in your family and your memories.