My chair is squeaking like crazy. At least, I think it's my seat. It might belong to the guy behind me, who keeps digging his knees into my seat. But I'm pretty sure it's mine. I keep trying to figure out how to distribute my weight so it will stop, to no avail. I am right behind the driver, but there's no way he hears me. He has headphones on that, judging by the little screen to his left, are blasting music in a language I don't know (Hebrew possibly?) and he has been tapping his hands and occasionally letting out soft and vaguely animalistic singing noises for the entirety of the three hours so far.
But I don't care. I'm not driving.
I am currently sitting on a bus somewhere between Boston and New York City and this seems as good a time as any to say, I LOVE public transportation. I would never drive if I didn't have to. If I ever have enough money, I'd like to not have to.
In Corinth, MS it seemed like everyone learned how to drive by 12 or 13. Sophomore year Drivers Ed was a mere formality. Not so for me. A couple weeks before The semester started, I freaked out when I realized this and so my dad gave me lessons in the high school's empty parking lot. After a few false starts (and stops), I figured out it wasn't quite as difficult as I'd imagined. I shouldn't really have worried. The test to get your driver's license in Corinth involves pulling out of the parking lot, turning right, going through a four-way stop, turning right again, going through a traffic light and finally taking one last right turn and parking the vehicle safely back in the DMV parking lot. I'm pretty sure it takes most people longer to figure out what weight to put on the form than to complete this driving test.
After that I was handed the keys to the forest green '98 Avalon that had been my dad's car, then my brother's first car, and was now to be my first car. (Actually it's still my first car and is entering teenhood with remarkable grace, despite being almost completely buried in snow a couple times this past winter).
I really enjoyed driving in high school and college. I loved the freedom of going wherever I felt like. Particularly in high school, gas prices were annoying but not the biting burden they are now. There was nothing better on a nice day than to crank up the music and go for a drive, and Mississippi has a lot of nice days. Beautiful weather and show tunes could make even the four hour drive from home to school feel leisurely.
Of course, there soon emerged the problem of alcohol. Or more specifically, who would forgo alcohol for the night to ensure the safety of a car-full of lives. It's pretty much a given that no one wants to be DD. Which brings me back to my original point, public transportation = heaven.
I also really dislike driving in traffic/metropolitan areas. Even in Jackson, Mississippi didn't have much in the way of crazy traffic or road-raged-out drivers. Boston, on the other hand, has them in spades. I've driven in the city plenty of times now, but I never really enjoy it. And I can't even imagine trying to drive in NYC. (Brian and I drove down from Dartmouth a couple years ago and I made him drive the entire time. He is a manly man for putting up with me.)
Personally, I'd rather just get sloshed, avoid angry drivers and not have to worry about speed limits. Public transportation FTW.
Now if we could just get high speed trains in this country, my travel needs would be met. And if someone could fix this seat, that'd be good too.
(Note to my mom, who inquired, and anyone else over the age of 35: the title of this post is a reference to an SNL sketch. I don't just curse willy-nilly. [At least, not on the blog. (At least, not in the titles. [Usually.])])
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
WTF, world - Airport Security is Not Rape
The other day I read an op-ed piece by a woman in Alaska absolutely railing against airport security. She described her experience with TSA as being "gate-raped." She said she sobbed as a security woman felt her stomach and under her bra band, calling it sexual assault. She compared the new full-body scanners ("Nudie Scanners," she said) to legalized porn.
The first time I read the article, I was taken aback by the (absurd, I immediately thought) claims she was making. Then I read it a second time and thought some more... I don't want to say that I think this woman is ridiculous, because she also wrote that earlier in her life she was a victim of rape and I believe that is one of the most harrowing, horrible offenses a person can go through. I fully realize I have no clue what damage her rapist did to her psyche. Rape terrifies me. It is probably my biggest fear, and I know so many women who would say the same thing.
Which is why I don't get it. I don’t understand why this woman would undermine her shattering experience by equating it to airport security procedures. Airport security procedures are not rape.
I did some digging because I’ve heard all the rumors about the new full-body scanners, but I didn’t actually know what image the operator sees when you go into one. By “digging,” of course, I mean I googled it. And actually, the images are more graphic than I thought – or at least some of them are. They range from pretty detailed (with nipples, buttcracks and genitals fairly clearly outlined) to very fuzzy/abstract with really no private parts visible. It seemed like generally though, the faces were all fuzzy; I don’t think the scanner really goes over the face. So it’s hard to know what those machines are actually capturing.
The last time I flew, I was told to go through one. I went in, raised my arms, waited a minute and then stepped out when I got a nod from the uniformed woman supervising. I honestly didn’t feel violated in any way. A much bigger deal – and not even really a big deal then – was the time I got stopped because two rings in my purse (they were double-finger rings lying next to each other) apparently looked like brass knuckles when they were scanned.
But okay, I can understand someone not wanting to feel like an unknown person in another part of the airport can see his or her body outlined. That’s fine.
No, what angers me is the extreme vernacular of the extended rape metaphor and the sense of appall/entitlement the author seems to feel. As if the security guards had no right to subject her to... the same security measures that pretty much everyone goes through. Measures that are designed to keep us safe, no less.
I can’t tell if the author exaggerated, either in her own memories or in her writing, the treatment she got. To me, the officers seem like they are just doing their job. They took her to another room out of the main security area when she got hysterical and they told her exactly what they were doing ("I'm going to touch your stomach now") rather than just patting her down, willy-nilly. Yet she uses the word “molested” in reference to what they did. Huh?
When Brian and some friends flew from back to the U.S. from the Middle East after spending five weeks volunteering there one summer, the Israeli airport security didn’t just scan their bags, they opened every single one and looked through the items in it. The patting-down process was much more intense than anything in American airports. It took them two full hours to get through security.
Intense? Sure. But the Israeli national airline has never had a plane hijacked.
I also looked into the author’s other articles on the Anchorage Daily News’ website. I didn't want to stereotype this Alaskan woman, just because another Alaskan woman with a penchant for extreme language has been popping up everywhere for the past three years. But then I found another article written by her that began with the words: "I miss Sarah Palin. Not the post-nomination, self-serving, political opportunist who has become an embarrassment to many Alaskans. Rather, I miss the governor who had 85 percent approval ratings. I miss the 'Wally Hickel' glint in the eye of a governor who stood in the sanctity of 'Owner-State.'”* So okay, she is clearly Republican and, although she at least has the sense to see what Palin has become in the media-soaked last few years, she still expresses an affinity for her ideals.
Bleh.
The most ridiculous part was that the author wrapped her tirade up with, “It's been almost 10 years since 9/11. I was 'gate raped' by my government, and Osama Bin Laden is still at large.”
What?! Bin Laden organized the most successful terrorist attack VIA PLANE in American history. TSA is intense because Bin Laden killed thousands VIA PLANE. As in what you are about to board, that kind of plane. If these scanners – “nudie” or not – keep a terrorist off the next plane I or my loved ones board, then I will gladly be scanned or patted down or have my bag searched for brass knuckles.
* The rest of the article was behind a paywall and I definitely wasn’t about to fork over money to read it, so I don’t know what sentiments were expressed past the opening paragraph.
The first time I read the article, I was taken aback by the (absurd, I immediately thought) claims she was making. Then I read it a second time and thought some more... I don't want to say that I think this woman is ridiculous, because she also wrote that earlier in her life she was a victim of rape and I believe that is one of the most harrowing, horrible offenses a person can go through. I fully realize I have no clue what damage her rapist did to her psyche. Rape terrifies me. It is probably my biggest fear, and I know so many women who would say the same thing.
Which is why I don't get it. I don’t understand why this woman would undermine her shattering experience by equating it to airport security procedures. Airport security procedures are not rape.
I did some digging because I’ve heard all the rumors about the new full-body scanners, but I didn’t actually know what image the operator sees when you go into one. By “digging,” of course, I mean I googled it. And actually, the images are more graphic than I thought – or at least some of them are. They range from pretty detailed (with nipples, buttcracks and genitals fairly clearly outlined) to very fuzzy/abstract with really no private parts visible. It seemed like generally though, the faces were all fuzzy; I don’t think the scanner really goes over the face. So it’s hard to know what those machines are actually capturing.
The last time I flew, I was told to go through one. I went in, raised my arms, waited a minute and then stepped out when I got a nod from the uniformed woman supervising. I honestly didn’t feel violated in any way. A much bigger deal – and not even really a big deal then – was the time I got stopped because two rings in my purse (they were double-finger rings lying next to each other) apparently looked like brass knuckles when they were scanned.
But okay, I can understand someone not wanting to feel like an unknown person in another part of the airport can see his or her body outlined. That’s fine.
No, what angers me is the extreme vernacular of the extended rape metaphor and the sense of appall/entitlement the author seems to feel. As if the security guards had no right to subject her to... the same security measures that pretty much everyone goes through. Measures that are designed to keep us safe, no less.
I can’t tell if the author exaggerated, either in her own memories or in her writing, the treatment she got. To me, the officers seem like they are just doing their job. They took her to another room out of the main security area when she got hysterical and they told her exactly what they were doing ("I'm going to touch your stomach now") rather than just patting her down, willy-nilly. Yet she uses the word “molested” in reference to what they did. Huh?
When Brian and some friends flew from back to the U.S. from the Middle East after spending five weeks volunteering there one summer, the Israeli airport security didn’t just scan their bags, they opened every single one and looked through the items in it. The patting-down process was much more intense than anything in American airports. It took them two full hours to get through security.
Intense? Sure. But the Israeli national airline has never had a plane hijacked.
I also looked into the author’s other articles on the Anchorage Daily News’ website. I didn't want to stereotype this Alaskan woman, just because another Alaskan woman with a penchant for extreme language has been popping up everywhere for the past three years. But then I found another article written by her that began with the words: "I miss Sarah Palin. Not the post-nomination, self-serving, political opportunist who has become an embarrassment to many Alaskans. Rather, I miss the governor who had 85 percent approval ratings. I miss the 'Wally Hickel' glint in the eye of a governor who stood in the sanctity of 'Owner-State.'”* So okay, she is clearly Republican and, although she at least has the sense to see what Palin has become in the media-soaked last few years, she still expresses an affinity for her ideals.
Bleh.
The most ridiculous part was that the author wrapped her tirade up with, “It's been almost 10 years since 9/11. I was 'gate raped' by my government, and Osama Bin Laden is still at large.”
What?! Bin Laden organized the most successful terrorist attack VIA PLANE in American history. TSA is intense because Bin Laden killed thousands VIA PLANE. As in what you are about to board, that kind of plane. If these scanners – “nudie” or not – keep a terrorist off the next plane I or my loved ones board, then I will gladly be scanned or patted down or have my bag searched for brass knuckles.
* The rest of the article was behind a paywall and I definitely wasn’t about to fork over money to read it, so I don’t know what sentiments were expressed past the opening paragraph.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
bouncy OB/GYNs on a plane
Among the list of the many irrational fears I harbor (including getting killed by a serial murderer, thanks a lot CSI), flying is somewhere in the top half.
I was never afraid of it when I was little. As long as I had some Jolly Ranchers to help with the change in ear pressure, I was a happy camper. I loved to sit in the window seat and stare out the window – I thought it was marvelous that we were so high above the clouds.
Nowadays I think it's basically insane. To be sealed up in a large metal craft and hurtle through the air at a very fast speed tens of thousands of feet in the air? No thank you ma'am. I think it's because there is some part of my mind that simply cannot fathom how a giant metal box doesn't just fall out of the air. Yeah, yeah, I know its got physics and aerodynamics and all that in play, but this is an irrational fear, remember?
Regardless, I get pretty anxious, which I have learned to combat two ways. 1) Drinking (the preferred method), or 2) Keeping my mind firmly planted on something else so I don't freak myself out.
Flying home from Jackson last weekend, I had homework to do on the plane/once I got home, so option #1 was out. Instead Brian helped distract me by playing Mad Libs. Last year on an all-day train from England to Scotland we fought boredom by writing and playing our own Mad Libs. Trust me, they so much better than the ones you buy.
See for yourself. This one, a touching wedding story, was written by me with words provided by Brian:
And here we have an expose about where Penny goes after we're asleep, written by Brian and words provided by me:
I was never afraid of it when I was little. As long as I had some Jolly Ranchers to help with the change in ear pressure, I was a happy camper. I loved to sit in the window seat and stare out the window – I thought it was marvelous that we were so high above the clouds.
Nowadays I think it's basically insane. To be sealed up in a large metal craft and hurtle through the air at a very fast speed tens of thousands of feet in the air? No thank you ma'am. I think it's because there is some part of my mind that simply cannot fathom how a giant metal box doesn't just fall out of the air. Yeah, yeah, I know its got physics and aerodynamics and all that in play, but this is an irrational fear, remember?
Regardless, I get pretty anxious, which I have learned to combat two ways. 1) Drinking (the preferred method), or 2) Keeping my mind firmly planted on something else so I don't freak myself out.
Flying home from Jackson last weekend, I had homework to do on the plane/once I got home, so option #1 was out. Instead Brian helped distract me by playing Mad Libs. Last year on an all-day train from England to Scotland we fought boredom by writing and playing our own Mad Libs. Trust me, they so much better than the ones you buy.
See for yourself. This one, a touching wedding story, was written by me with words provided by Brian:
And here we have an expose about where Penny goes after we're asleep, written by Brian and words provided by me:
Friday, December 17, 2010
adventures with kittens: flying high
Hello from 36,000 feet!
I'm sitting here on a plane, with my kitteh on my lap, my man next to me, a whiskey and cranberry in my hand (that only cost $1.29! Whauuuuuut?*) and no exams to speak of. Today is a good day.
But getting to this point has been quite the adventure. I had an exam Wednesday morning, turned my final project in that afternoon, went to a job interview, met some other TAs for a group grading party, took my computer to the Apple store** and then numbly ate Special K for dinner while staring at CSI. All this after less than four hours of sleep. So Thursday rolled around and I had one day to clean, pack, get Penny ready and do a hundred other menial things to be ready to get to this moment. Long story short, at about midnight-30 I was panicking about everything left on my (lengthy) to-do list and Brian was wishing I'd chill the hell out and Penny was wondering what in the world all those suitcases were for and why I kept trying to get her to enjoy sitting in a little teeny carrier.
To those that know me, it's needless to say that I spent most of the night making lists in my head and trying to remember not to forget stuff and worrying about how my lil girl was going to survive her first flight.
But somehow, we made it through the last-minute packing craziness (including switching everything from my suitcase into a whole new one because I clearly need all seven pairs of these shoes and, even after laying on it, there was no way that sucker was going to zip), the carrying a pet onto the T craziness (of course we got on it at the same time as 854247996 cynical Bostonians on their way to work) and the security craziness (Penny did NOT enjoy having to leave her carrier and go through the metal detector with deafening noises and chaotic smells everywhere)... and here we are.
Thanks for the free wi-fi Delta, and here we come Mississippi!!
* We definitely brought our own mini bottles of booze, put them in the plastic baggie of liquids and security waved it on through. Genius.
** Yes, I have finally joined the ranks of the tech-savvy, Mac-obsessed generation! Think my students will think I'm cool now?
I'm sitting here on a plane, with my kitteh on my lap, my man next to me, a whiskey and cranberry in my hand (that only cost $1.29! Whauuuuuut?*) and no exams to speak of. Today is a good day.
But getting to this point has been quite the adventure. I had an exam Wednesday morning, turned my final project in that afternoon, went to a job interview, met some other TAs for a group grading party, took my computer to the Apple store** and then numbly ate Special K for dinner while staring at CSI. All this after less than four hours of sleep. So Thursday rolled around and I had one day to clean, pack, get Penny ready and do a hundred other menial things to be ready to get to this moment. Long story short, at about midnight-30 I was panicking about everything left on my (lengthy) to-do list and Brian was wishing I'd chill the hell out and Penny was wondering what in the world all those suitcases were for and why I kept trying to get her to enjoy sitting in a little teeny carrier.
To those that know me, it's needless to say that I spent most of the night making lists in my head and trying to remember not to forget stuff and worrying about how my lil girl was going to survive her first flight.
But somehow, we made it through the last-minute packing craziness (including switching everything from my suitcase into a whole new one because I clearly need all seven pairs of these shoes and, even after laying on it, there was no way that sucker was going to zip), the carrying a pet onto the T craziness (of course we got on it at the same time as 854247996 cynical Bostonians on their way to work) and the security craziness (Penny did NOT enjoy having to leave her carrier and go through the metal detector with deafening noises and chaotic smells everywhere)... and here we are.
Thanks for the free wi-fi Delta, and here we come Mississippi!!
* We definitely brought our own mini bottles of booze, put them in the plastic baggie of liquids and security waved it on through. Genius.
** Yes, I have finally joined the ranks of the tech-savvy, Mac-obsessed generation! Think my students will think I'm cool now?
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