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Ferre
Cannabis Sacrament Minister.
Joined: 14 Apr 2003
Posts: 7295
Location: Amsterdam
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 Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 3:48 pm Post subject: Fear of flying? If you had not, you will now. |
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Found this in my mail...
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by Nicholas Monahan
This morning I'll be escorting my wife to the hospital, where the
doctors will perform a caesarean section to remove our first child.
She didn't want to do it this way neither of us did but sometimes
the Fates decide otherwise. The Fates or, in our case, government
employees. On the morning of October 26th Mary and I entered Portland
International Airport, en route to the Las Vegas wedding of one of my
best friends. Although we live in Los Angeles, we'd been in Oregon
working on a film, and up to that point had had nothing but praise to
shower on the city of Portland, a refreshing change of pace from our
own suffocating metropolis.
At the security checkpoint I was led aside for the "inspection"
that's all the rage at airports these days. My shoes were removed. I
was told to take off my sweater, then to fold over the waistband of
my pants. My baseball hat, hastily jammed on my head at 5 AM, was
removed and assiduously examined ("Anything could be in here, sir," I
was told, after I asked what I could hide in a baseball hat. Yeah.
Anything.) Soon I was standing on one foot, my arms stretched out,
the other leg sticking out in front of me ΰla a DUI test. I began to
get pissed off, as most normal people would. My anger increased when
I realized that the newly knighted federal employees weren't just
examining me, but my 7½ months pregnant wife as well. I'd originally
thought that I'd simply been randomly selected for the more excessive
than normal search. You know, Number 50 or whatever. Apparently not
though it was both of us. These are your new threats, America:
pregnant accountants and their sleepy husbands flying to weddings.
After some more grumbling on my part they eventually finished with me
and I went to retrieve our luggage from the x-ray machine. Upon
returning I found my wife sitting in a chair, crying. Mary rarely
cries, and certainly not in public. When I asked her what was the
matter, she tried to quell her tears and sobbed, "I'm
sorry...it's...they touched my breasts...and..." That's all I heard.
I marched up to the woman who'd been examining her and shouted, "What
did you do to her?" Later I found out that in addition to touching
her swollen breasts to protect the American citizenry the
employee had asked that she lift up her shirt. Not behind a screen,
not off to the side no, right there, directly in front of the
hundred or so passengers standing in line. And for you women who've
been pregnant and worn maternity pants, you know how ridiculous those
things look. "I felt like a clown," my wife told me later. "On
display for all these people, with the cotton panel on my pants and
my stomach sticking out. When I sat down I just lost my composure and
began to  . That's when you walked up."
Of course when I say she "told me later," it's because she wasn't
able to tell me at the time, because as soon as I demanded to know
what the federal employee had done to make her , I was swarmed by
Portland police officers. Instantly. Three of them, cinching my arms,
locking me in handcuffs, and telling me I was under arrest. Now my
wife really began to . As they led me away and she ran alongside,
I implored her to calm down, to think of the baby, promising her that
everything would turn out all right. She faded into the distance and
I was shoved into an elevator, a cop holding each arm. After making
me face the corner, the head honcho told that I was under arrest and
that I wouldn't be flying that day that I was in fact a "menace."
It took me a while to regain my composure. I felt like I was one of
those guys in The Gulag Archipelago who, because the proceedings all
seem so unreal, doesn't fully realize that he is in fact being
arrested in a public place in front of crowds of people for...for
what? I didn't know what the crime was. Didn't matter. Once upstairs,
the officers made me remove my shoes and my hat and tossed me into a
cell. Yes, your airports have prison cells, just like your amusement
parks, train stations, universities, and national forests. Let
freedom reign. After a short time I received a visit from the
arresting officer. "Mr. Monahan," he started, "Are you on drugs?" Was
this even real? "No, I'm not on drugs." "Should you be?" "What do you
mean?" "Should you be on any type of medication?" "No." "Then why'd
you react that way back there?"
You see the thinking? You see what passes for reasoning among your
domestic shock troops these days? Only "whackos" get angry over
seeing the woman they've been with for ten years in tears because
someone has touched her breasts. That kind of reaction love,
protection it's mind-boggling! "Mr. Monahan, are you on drugs?" His
snide words rang inside my head. This is my wife, finally pregnant
with our first child after months of failed attempts, after the
depressing shock of the miscarriage last year, my wife who'd been
walking on a cloud over having the opportunity to be a mother...and
my anger is simply unfathomable to the guy standing in front of me,
the guy who earns a living thanks to my taxes, the guy whose family I
feed through my labor. What I did wasn't normal. No, I reacted like a
drug addict would've. I was so disgusted I felt like vomiting. But
that was just the beginning. An hour later, after I'd been gallantly
assured by the officer that I wouldn't be attending my friend's
wedding that day, I heard Mary's voice outside my cell. The officer
was speaking loudly, letting her know that he was planning on doing
me a favor... which everyone knows is never a real favor. He wasn't
going to come over and help me work on my car or move some furniture.
No, his "favor" was this: He'd decided not to charge me with a
felony. Think about that for a second. Rapes, car-jackings, murders,
arsons those are felonies. So is yelling in an airport now,
apparently. I hadn't realized, though I should have. Luckily, I was
getting a favor, though. I was merely going to be slapped with a
misdemeanor.
"Here's your court date," he said as I was released from my cell. In
addition, I was banned from Portland International for 90 days, and
just in case I was thinking of coming over and hanging out around its
perimeter, the officer gave me a map with the boundaries highlighted,
sternly warning me against trespassing. Then he and a second officer
escorted us off the grounds. Mary and I hurriedly drove two and a
half hours in the rain to Seattle, where we eventually caught a
flight to Vegas. But the officer was true to his word we missed my
friend's wedding. The fact that he'd been in my own wedding party,
the fact that a once in a lifetime event was stolen from us well,
who cares, right? Upon our return to Portland (I'd had to fly into
Seattle and drive back down), we immediately began contacting
attorneys. We aren't litigious people we wanted no money. I'm not
even sure what we fully wanted. An apology? A reprimand? I don't
know. It doesn't matter though, because we couldn't afford a lawyer,
it turned out. $4,000 was the average figure bandied about as a
retaining fee. Sorry, but I've got a new baby on the way. So we
called the ACLU, figuring they existed for just such incidents as
these. And they do apparently...but only if we were minorities.
That's what they told us. In the meantime, I'd appealed my suspension
from PDX. A week or so later I got a response from the Director of
Aviation. After telling me how, in the aftermath of 9/11, most
passengers not only accept additional airport screening but welcome
it, he cut to the chase:
"After a review of the police report and my discussions with police
staff, as well as a review of the TSA's report on this incident, I
concur with the officer's decision to take you into custody and to
issue a citation to you for disorderly conduct. That being said,
because I also understand that you were upset and acted on your
emotions, I am willing to lift the Airport Exclusion Order...."
Attached to this letter was the report the officer had filled out.
I'd like to say I couldn't believe it, but in a way, I could. It's
seemingly becoming the norm in America lies and deliberate
distortions on the part of those in power, no matter how much or how
little power they actually wield. The gist of his report was this:
>From the get go I wasn't following the screener's directions. I
was "squinting my eyes" and talking to my wife in a "low, forced
voice" while "excitedly swinging my arms." Twice I began to walk away
from the screener, inhaling and exhaling forcefully. When I'd
completed the physical exam, I walked to the luggage screening area,
where a second screener took a pair of scissors from my suitcase. At
this point I yelled, "What the %*&$% is going on? This is &*#&$%!"
The officer, who'd already been called over by one of the screeners,
became afraid for the TSA staff and the many travelers. He required
the assistance of a second officer as he "struggled" to get me into
handcuffs, then for "cover" called over a third as well. It was only
at this point that my wife began to hysterically.
There was nothing poetic in my reaction to the arrest report. I
didn't crumple it in my fist and swear that justice would be served,
promising to sacrifice my resources and time to see that it would. I
simply stared. Clearly the officer didn't have the guts to write down
what had really happened. It might not look too good to see that
stuff about the pregnant woman in tears because she'd been
humiliated. Instead this was the official scenario being presented
for the permanent record. It doesn't even matter that it's the most
implausible sounding situation you can think of. "Hey, what
the...godammit, they're taking our scissors, honey!" Why didn't he
write in anything about a monkey wearing a fez? True, the TSA staff
had expropriated a pair of scissors from our toiletries kit the
story wasn't entirely made up. Except that I'd been locked in airport
jail at the time. I didn't know anything about any scissors until
Mary told me on our drive up to Seattle. They'd questioned her about
them while I was in the bowels of the airport sitting in my cell. So
I wrote back, indignation and disgust flooding my brain. "[W]hile I'm
not sure, I'd guess that the entire incident is captured on video.
Memory is imperfect on everyone's part, but the footage won't lie. I
realize it might be procedurally difficult for you to view this, but
if you could, I'd appreciate it. There's no willful disregard of
screening directions. No explosion over the discovery of a pair of
scissors in a suitcase. No struggle to put handcuffs on. There's a
tired man, early in the morning, unhappily going through a rigorous
procedure and then reacting to the tears of his pregnant wife."
Eventually we heard back from a different person, the guy in charge
of the TSA airport screeners. One of his employees had made the
damning statement about me exploding over her scissor discovery, and
the officer had deftly incorporated that statement into his report.
We asked the guy if he could find out why she'd said this couldn't
she possibly be mistaken? "Oh, can't do that, my hands are tied. It's
kind of like leading a witness I could get in trouble, heh heh."
Then what about the videotape? Why not watch that? That would
exonerate me. "Oh, we destroy all video after three days." Sure you
do. A few days later we heard from him again. He just wanted to
inform us that he'd received corroboration of the officer's report
from the officer's superior, a name we didn't recognize. "But...he
wasn't even there," my wife said. "Yeah, well, uh, he's corroborated
it though." That's how it works. "Oh, and we did look at the
videotape. Inconclusive." But I thought it was destroyed? On and on
it went. Due to the tenacity of my wife in making phone calls and
speaking with relevant persons, the "crime" was eventually lowered to
a mere citation. Only she could have done that. I would've simply
accepted what was being thrown at me, trumped up charges and all,
simply because I'm wholly inadequate at performing the kowtow.
There's no way I could have contacted all the people Mary did and
somehow pretend to be contrite. Besides, I speak in a low, forced
voice, which doesn't elicit sympathy. Just police suspicion.
Weeks later at the courthouse I listened to a young DA awkwardly read
the charges against me "Mr. Monahan...umm...shouted obscenities at
the airport staff...umm... umm...oh, they took some scissors from his
suitcase and he became...umm...abusive at this point." If I was
reading about it in Kafka I might have found something vaguely
amusing in all of it. But I wasn't. I was there. Living it. I entered
a plea of nolo contendere, explaining to the judge that if I'd been a
resident of Oregon, I would have definitely pled "Not Guilty."
However, when that happens, your case automatically goes to a jury
trial, and since I lived a thousand miles away, and was slated to
return home in seven days, with a newborn due in a matter of
weeks...you get the picture. "No Contest" it was. Judgment: $250
fine. Did I feel happy? Only $250, right? No, I wasn't happy. I don't
care if it's twelve cents, that's money pulled right out of my baby's
mouth and fed to a disgusting legal system that will use it to
propagate more incidents like this. But at the very least it was
over, right? Wrong. When we returned to Los Angeles there was an
envelope waiting for me from the court. Inside wasn't a receipt for
the money we'd paid. No, it was a letter telling me that what I
actually owed was $309 state assessed court costs, you know.
Wouldn't you think your taxes pay for that the state putting you on
trial? No, taxes are used to hire more cops like the officer, because
with our rising criminal population people like me hey, your
average citizen demands more and more "security."
Finally I reach the piece de resistance. The week before we'd gone to
the airport my wife had had her regular pre-natal checkup. The child
had settled into the proper head down position for birth, continuing
the remarkable pregnancy she'd been having. We returned to Portland
on Sunday. On Mary's Monday appointment she was suddenly told, "Looks
like your baby's gone breech." When she later spoke with her midwives
in Los Angeles, they wanted to know if she'd experienced any type of
trauma recently, as this often makes a child flip. "As a matter of
fact..." she began, recounting the story, explaining how the child
inside of her was going absolutely crazy when she was crying as the
police were leading me away through the crowd. My wife had been
planning a natural childbirth. She'd read dozens of books,
meticulously researched everything, and had finally decided that this
was the way for her. No drugs, no numbing of sensations just that
ultimate combination of brute pain and sheer joy that belongs
exclusively to mothers. But my wife is also a first-time mother, so
she has what is called an "untested" pelvis. Essentially this means
that a breech birth is too dangerous to attempt, for both mother and
child. Therefore, she's now relegated to a c-section hospital stay,
epidural, catheter, fetal monitoring, stitches everything she
didn't want. Her natural birth has become a surgery.
We've tried everything to turn that baby. Acupuncture, chiropractic
techniques, underwater handstands, elephant walking, moxibustion,
bending backwards over pillows, herbs, external manipulation all to
no avail. When I walked into the living room the other night and saw
her plaintively cooing with a flashlight turned onto her stomach, yet
another suggested technique, my heart almost broke. It's breaking now
as I write these words. I can never prove that my child went breech
because of what happened to us at the airport. But I'll always
believe it. Wrongly or rightly, I'll forever think of how this man,
the personification of this system, has affected the lives of my
family and me. When my wife is sliced open, I'll be thinking of him.
When they remove her uterus from her abdomen and lay it on her
stomach, I'll be thinking of him. When I visit her and my child in
the hospital instead of having them with me here in our home, I'll be
thinking of him. When I assist her to the bathroom while the incision
heals internally, I'll be thinking of him.
There are plenty of stories like this these days. I don't know how
many I've read where the writer describes some breach of civil
liberties by employees of the state, then wraps it all up with a dire
warning about what we as a nation are becoming, and how if we don't
put an end to it now, then we're in for heaps of trouble. Well you
know what? Nothing's going to stop the inevitable. There's no policy
change that's going to save us. There's no election that's going to
put a halt to the onslaught of tyranny. It's here already this
country has changed for the worse and will continue to change for the
worse. There is now a division between the citizenry and the state.
When that state is used as a tool against me, there is no longer any
reason why I should owe any allegiance to that state. And that's the
first thing that child of ours is going to learn.
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Mystic Power
admin THC-Ministry YahooGroup
Joined: 23 Aug 2004
Posts: 3605
Location: Key West
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| Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 4:30 pm Post subject: |
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He's right. The gov't believes it owns us, now.
I know of no case in human history where tyranny was over-thrown by peaceful means.
I hope I'm wrong. Sometimes it's good to be wrong.
Bliss
Ben
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TSRev.
Cannabis Sacrament Minister
Joined: 02 Sep 2004
Posts: 295
Location: Emerald Empire
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| Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 5:11 pm Post subject: |
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The problem is that you are not wrong , Mystic.
But apparently not many people recognize what is going on anyway 
It must be all the years of floride in the water? and mothers little helper prescriptions? |
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Torkel
Cannabis Sacrament Minister
Joined: 23 Nov 2004
Posts: 1396
Location: West Virginia, USA
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| Posted: Fri Dec 17, 2004 6:39 pm Post subject: |
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This act by the "police-State" of the USA is, for lack of a better term, unacceptable and FU##ed-UP to say the least!!
I admire that man for at least attempting to stand up for his wife.
The Gov't & it's nazi-fascist agencies have the license/permission to take it to the limit as the gov't de-sensitizes the citizens of their lost rights as they take another "step" towards the new-world-disorder! 
Torkel
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Miller vs U.S. (230 F 2nd 486,489): "The claim and exercise of a Constitutional right cannot be converted into a crime."
Miranda vs Arizona (384 U.S. 436, 125): "Where rights secured by the Constitution are involved, there can be no rule-making or legislation which would abrogate them."
HAGANS vs LAVINE (415 US 533 N-3,note 5): "Once JURISDICTION is challenged it must be proven by the Plaintiff." |
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VWBusman
Cannabis Sacrament Minister
Joined: 14 Dec 2004
Posts: 52
Location: FL-Tampa
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