The Daily Daily: The Pat down as a substitute for real romance.

The guy actually looks happy about it.

So, I’m flying next Tuesday to see family.  And I hate, hate, hate flying.  I can’t stand it.  It isn’t the flying part.  Once you are in the air, you are in the same situation as you are on the ground, in someone else’s care.  Just take a deep breath and let it go.  No, it isn’t the flying.  It is the Airlines. I hate their business model.  The idea that they have tremendous power and that they constantly abuse their power disgusts me.  The lines.  The silly idea of security. The waiting. The prices. The rules.  The lack of service and the idea that I am serving them and that they are doing me a favor.  It is the prime example of why Capitalism works for the people willing to game the system the best.

But, whatever.  What I’m really worried about is this new Patdown/Scanner thing going on.  Do I want a patdown or a scan?  On the one hand, I never get patdowned that much.  The last time was when I was in the South, and I was told to stop in the middle of the sidewalk by police because I fit the description of someone they were looking for (Black. Young. Wearing Jeans and Sneakers).  I never had a body scan, through. I mean, it is a big x-ray, right?  They are going to scan me and see what I’ve got working under there, right?  I don’t care what they do.  They can do a patdown/scan/probe/push/wiggle/dip combo if it makes them happy. What I want is a standard.  Let me know what I can expect every time I go to the airport.  When I hop on a train, I know what is going on.  Let me know that on a plane to.  I understand we don’t want the terrorist to win.  But, I mean, come on.  Patdowns.  Body scans?  Confusions?  I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again.  Well, I don’t really have to, do I?