Where Have You Gone Kit Carson?

Imagine if you will the early American pioneers traveling in wagon trains from Missouri all the way to California. Rugged men, women and children all, they battled weather, tricky terrain, unpredictable rivers and angry Native Americans to reach their new homes. It could be argued that these pioneers defined the American can-do spirit. These men and women had an insatiable thirst for adventure. Traveling for as long as six months to reach their promised land, they consistently demonstrated independence in thought and action. America is a great country because these brave souls wouldn’t accept the conventional wisdom that it wasn’t safe to make a 2,000 mile journey in a wagon. They believed in themselves and in the future of America.
Now imagine what would have happened if, when they reached the Rocky Mountains, they found a band of fellow Americans wearing uniforms with patches that said TSA on their shirts. Picture an agent of the Federal government requesting identification, demanding that the men remove their belts and boots. Imagine the women being subjected to a pat down through their petticoats. Can you hear the TSA agent telling them they could not take their water-filled canteens another step further because they weren’t purchased at the entrance to the mountain range? When the TSA agents insisted that the men leave their weapons behind, I’m guessing a riot would have ensued which the history books would no doubt refer to as the Massacre of South Pass, Wyoming.
I was standing in line before 6 a.m. at the Nashville International Airport last week trying to get to Detroit. There was an unusually large crowd that morning trying to get through security, nervously checking their watches and praying they would make their flights. That is when they weren’t distracted by emails and text messages or listening to Maroon 5 on their i-Pods. Like sheep we all did exactly as we were told. We handed over our boarding passes along with our picture IDs just to get into the line.
As we got closer to the gray buckets and conveyor belts we ran through our mental checklist: Wallet, jewelry, cell phone, coins, belts, tiny toiletries and oh yes, laptops. We know that all these items along with any jackets and shoes must be removed and placed in the buckets. We gently pushed them along, careful to smile at any TSA agents that might look in our direction. It makes no sense to look like an independent, non-compliant American citizen. No one wants to submit to the public pat down or electric wanding that suggests you’re either a potential threat to national security or a dummy who doesn’t even know how to fly to Detroit.
With plenty of time on my hands, I found myself scrutinizing the faces of my fellow travelers. I was looking for any signs of rebellion in the ranks. Maybe we’re too distracted to rebel. Perhaps a bit self satisfied that life is good enough so why make waves? It doesn’t take that long to get through the line anyway. Seriously, shouldn’t we carefully examine gray-haired old men and women, checking even their canes to be sure we can fly safely? Doesn’t it make sense to send innocent 5 year old red-blooded American children through an x-ray machine? I feel safer don’t you?
I go through this process nearly every week. Usually it doesn’t take very long but it is frustrating nevertheless. That morning I couldn’t help thinking about the American spirit and whether we have any fight left in us. What will it take for us to say, enough!
“Sir, before I let you board the plane you will have to recite the Pledge of Allegiance and sing God Bless America into this microphone or you can’t fly today.”
“Excuse me miss, we have your identification and your ticket is valid but our clerk here is going to perform a full cavity search live on television which will be seen by anyone sitting in the food court.”
I understand the need for airport security. No one wants a repeat of 9/11. But we have become much too willing to accept patently absurd notions about safety because it’s easier than fighting the craziness. Passenger profiling need not be based solely on ethnic or racial stereotypes. In fact experts say it would be a mistake. Regardless, our current security system makes air travel a nuisance. If only we had the ingenuity of our forefathers. Surely we could find a better way. Most of us know America can do better. Our ancestors would have done something about it.

Copyright Len Serafino 2011. All rights reserved.

Flying Soon? You'll Survive

I’ve been reading a book entitled The Survivors Club. It’s all about why some people survive and others don’t. It’s a fascinating read. One section that really got my attention was the one about flying. As someone who flies regularly, I was more than a little bit interested in learning anything I could that would improve my chances of surviving a plane crash. I know what you’re thinking. Is this discussion absolutely necessary? Let me start with the good news.
Everybody doesn’t automatically die when a jetliner crashes. The survival rate is as high as 95%. Even in the most serious crashes more than 76% survive. And, your chances of dying in a plane crash are only about one in 60 million every time you fly.
In spite of such encouraging news, Ben Sherwood, The Survivors Club author still felt it was important to give his readers tips on how to make sure you are one of the survivors in the event of a crash. Here are some of his suggestions along with a bit of commentary from this observer.
Recognize that the first 3 minutes of a flight and the last 8 are the most critical. Okay, that means you’re most likely to encounter a problem during takeoff and landing. That’s when you should be at your best, ready to jump out of the plane as soon as it stops careening along the runway just short of long term parking where your car is waiting. Most flyers are so nervous about being confined to a metal cylinder traveling at 500 MPH that being alert is the exact opposite of what they want to feel. They want something to calm them down.
If most flyers had their way, the security checkpoint would offer a shot from a tranquilizer gun right after the X-ray. Isn’t that why every airport I’ve ever been in has a sports bar? No matter what time of day it is, the bar has customers. A couple of vodka martinis not only take away the jitters. By the time you step on the plane you’re convinced that should the pilot bail out, you could guide the plane to a safe landing on any runway including I-75.
The author also recommends that when the flight attendants are giving you the safety instructions you should pay strict attention. They are trying to help you save your life. Maybe so but I never detect even the slightest sense of urgency in their voices. They might as well be talking about a recipe for macaroni and cheese. If they want to get our attention maybe they should begin their announcements by saying, “Thank you for flying with us today. There’s only a one in sixty million chance that you’ll die but just in case…
And honestly, does anybody really believe the seat cushion is a flotation device? If I’m taking anything with me when I jump off the plane I’ll take my chances with my laptop. It’s lighter than the seat cushion and, resting my chin on that as I float through the debris sounds a lot more appealing then putting any part of my anatomy on a well traveled seat cushion. Plus with wireless access to the Internet maybe I could get a few emails done while we wait to be rescued.
Speaking of seats, which seats are the safest? Conventional wisdom says it’s the back of the plane but government experts disagree. According to a study, done at the University of Greenwich in London, survivors move an average of 5 rows before they escape. So the best seats are within 5 rows of the nearest exit. With this kind of information available why are any of the seats more than five rows from an exit? Are the airlines too cheap to add a few exits? When they make seat assignments are they telling me the truth about which seats are available or do they have some formula based on age and looks that determines how far you sit from an exit? That might explain why my seats are always 14 rows from any door including the bathroom.
Here’s one I completely agree with. Make sure your seat belt is properly fastened: buckle your belt low and tight across your hips. If only the shuttle bus from the parking service had seat belts. Talk about a harrowing ride.
Plane crash survivors are Darwinian types. They wear lace up running shoes and they drink a caffeine drenched protein supplement moments after they board. Members of the survivor’s club are prepared to climb over seats and force their way past people frozen with fear and blocking their way out. I wonder if they use the seat cushion to help clear a path.

copyright 2009 len Serafino. All rights reserved.