A1FlyBoy
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2002
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Do you really want an infuriated pilot flying your airliner?
By Hermann Weidemann
Special for The Republic
Dec. 12, 2001 09:39:07
As I stood there, spread-eagle in my pilot uniform with my patriotic American flag tie, I could feel my adrenal gland go into action.
My neck muscles were tensing up, my pupils were dilating, my palms were sweaty and I was mad, really mad! I had just parked my $35 million Boeing 737 at the gate next door. After a flawless flight from Reno that ended in a smooth touchdown, delivering 93 appreciative passengers to Los Angeles International, here I was being treated like a criminal seven minutes later!
My luggage was upended, my cell phone fondled, my laptop opened, my packages of gum inspected and worst of all, my body was wanded and patted down to find who knows what.
My crime was that I was taking a scheduled deadhead for which I was paid by my airline! For some reason I was selected (at random, I'm sure) for this exercise in humiliation. My fellow pilots followed my harassment sympathetically from the vantage point of their cockpit, through the glass windows of the terminal a mere 30 feet away. Have we lost our collective sanity? Would anyone seriously consider strip-searching a surgeon for sharp objects just before he is to perform open-heart surgery? Since Sept. 11, my small scissors that have been in my dopp-kit for at least a decade have been stolen by security personnel and my nail file was considered a dangerous weapon and confiscated. The ball-point pen in my pocket apparently isn't dangerous enough to warrant seizure, and the fact that I have a whole airplane at my disposal every time I strap myself into the captain's seat has apparently slipped someone's mind.
As I sat down in my passenger seat, I desperately tried to recall "why zebras don't have heart attacks." What was I to do with this anger? One of my thoughts was to call in sick the next time I'm treated like a terrorist. I know of a captain who delayed his flight for two hours to get a blood test because a passenger insinuated that he was under the influence of alcohol. Well, if I am a terrorist, then maybe the safest course of action would be to remove myself from my scheduled flight!
My mind was obviously not thinking rational thoughts in its enraged state. Then it hit me. With all this insanity I am still required to be the consummate professional once I pass the scrutiny of a minimum-wage screener. The fact that I have a U.S. Air Force secret clearance apparently counts for nothing. Martin Luther King had it right after all. The true human test is the content of our character, not the content of the captain's dopp-kit.
We're right back to the whole gun-control debate. Guns aren't dangerous, criminals with guns are. Pilots aren't the enemy, hijackers are. In our panic to achieve security we've made everybody a suspect and confused frenzied activity for progress. Will we subject our "passenger 57" air marshals to random searches and pat-downs as well? Why not? After all, they'll be carrying loaded handguns onto our airplanes. If the pilots have to be searched, surely the air-marshals should be inspected. Why shouldn't a screener determine the content of their character as well? Maybe the Archie Bunker solution is still the best. Let everybody bring their handguns aboard. That way we'll always be in a checkmate situation and look at all the money we'll save!
The absurdity of my statements is rivaled only by the illogicality of our new reality. Do you really want a raving mad pilot flying your airplane today? Isn't it about time that the pendulum swings toward intellectual solutions and away from this brainless confusion?
By Hermann Weidemann
Special for The Republic
Dec. 12, 2001 09:39:07
As I stood there, spread-eagle in my pilot uniform with my patriotic American flag tie, I could feel my adrenal gland go into action.
My neck muscles were tensing up, my pupils were dilating, my palms were sweaty and I was mad, really mad! I had just parked my $35 million Boeing 737 at the gate next door. After a flawless flight from Reno that ended in a smooth touchdown, delivering 93 appreciative passengers to Los Angeles International, here I was being treated like a criminal seven minutes later!
My luggage was upended, my cell phone fondled, my laptop opened, my packages of gum inspected and worst of all, my body was wanded and patted down to find who knows what.
My crime was that I was taking a scheduled deadhead for which I was paid by my airline! For some reason I was selected (at random, I'm sure) for this exercise in humiliation. My fellow pilots followed my harassment sympathetically from the vantage point of their cockpit, through the glass windows of the terminal a mere 30 feet away. Have we lost our collective sanity? Would anyone seriously consider strip-searching a surgeon for sharp objects just before he is to perform open-heart surgery? Since Sept. 11, my small scissors that have been in my dopp-kit for at least a decade have been stolen by security personnel and my nail file was considered a dangerous weapon and confiscated. The ball-point pen in my pocket apparently isn't dangerous enough to warrant seizure, and the fact that I have a whole airplane at my disposal every time I strap myself into the captain's seat has apparently slipped someone's mind.
As I sat down in my passenger seat, I desperately tried to recall "why zebras don't have heart attacks." What was I to do with this anger? One of my thoughts was to call in sick the next time I'm treated like a terrorist. I know of a captain who delayed his flight for two hours to get a blood test because a passenger insinuated that he was under the influence of alcohol. Well, if I am a terrorist, then maybe the safest course of action would be to remove myself from my scheduled flight!
My mind was obviously not thinking rational thoughts in its enraged state. Then it hit me. With all this insanity I am still required to be the consummate professional once I pass the scrutiny of a minimum-wage screener. The fact that I have a U.S. Air Force secret clearance apparently counts for nothing. Martin Luther King had it right after all. The true human test is the content of our character, not the content of the captain's dopp-kit.
We're right back to the whole gun-control debate. Guns aren't dangerous, criminals with guns are. Pilots aren't the enemy, hijackers are. In our panic to achieve security we've made everybody a suspect and confused frenzied activity for progress. Will we subject our "passenger 57" air marshals to random searches and pat-downs as well? Why not? After all, they'll be carrying loaded handguns onto our airplanes. If the pilots have to be searched, surely the air-marshals should be inspected. Why shouldn't a screener determine the content of their character as well? Maybe the Archie Bunker solution is still the best. Let everybody bring their handguns aboard. That way we'll always be in a checkmate situation and look at all the money we'll save!
The absurdity of my statements is rivaled only by the illogicality of our new reality. Do you really want a raving mad pilot flying your airplane today? Isn't it about time that the pendulum swings toward intellectual solutions and away from this brainless confusion?