No Fly Zone

My appointment at the VAMC went well. That is to say I didn’t have to stand around or sit around all that long to see my doctor. Nor did I get a ‘script change as I thought I was going to get, so no long wait at the pharmacy either.

Instead, I had to try and explain to my MD why I refuse to take commercial flights since September 2001. He thought it was out of some sort of phobia or something.

Not at all!

It took me nearly all of an hour to get him to understand that the decision to not fly in a purposeful choice. I based this choice on the actions of the Department of Homeland Security and the Transportation Safety Administration, as I have researched and learned of those two agencies screw ups over the years.

First, neither one target the correct people when it comes to searches. Grandma isn’t the threat and neither is the big busted blonde.

The profile is a younger male of dark complexion, well groomed and intelligent. I’m the whitest guy I know and I had to undergo a physical search.

Next are the things they call weapons or potential weapons. In my book my ball-point pen is more of a threat than the unbagged three-once bottle of shampoo.

They’ll take the shampoo and leave the pen. And have you ever seen how a woman’s high heel can pierce the skin?

Now they have the express system, where a person can undergo a background check and if they pass, they can jus’ by-pass the security lines. What a bunch of crap!

The background check is done by the FBI.

This is the same agency that allowed a woman to work for them in a classified position for nearly five years even though she a had fake marriage license and fake documentation to be in the U.S.  Boy, do I trust them to do the background check properly…not!

Yeah, I can go through the security check points and get on a passenger jet. It’s not a phobic reaction to the possibility of dying.

Instead I jus’ don’t want to go through a stupid procedure that only “creates” a “feeling” of public safety. This is MY choice and I don’t need any meds to help me with it.

My doctor still doesn’t fully understand what I am saying about all this. Instead, I ended up walking away — thinking of myself as obsessed with my need to be correct.

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