Happy Thanksgiving. The threatened “pat-down” protest at the nation’s airports didn’t materialize yesterday, so if you flew, that’s one thing you have to be thankful for. It’s not surprising, either. Regardless of how steamed you might be to read about full-body scans, I can’t think of anyone who wants to take more time getting through airport security. Nor can I think of anyone who wants to endure a groin massage in front of a live audience rather than pass through a glass booth, even if someone, somewhere is looking beneath your clothes. You can comfort yourself with the idea that unless you are physically exceptional for good or ill, the person in the screening room will not remember your body from among the hundreds she or he looked at yesterday.
I’m a frequent flyer, but have yet to have my full body scanned. We don’t have those devices at BTV (that’s Burlington International – jet-setters use pilot lingo), but they’re coming in 2011. They do have the machines at DCA (Washington National) but not at every security checkpoint and not everyone who passes through the checkpoints where they are present is selected for a full-body scan. I’ve never been selected. In fact, in the six months since I first witnessed the operation of full-body scanners, last week was the first time I saw anyone selected who was not an attractive female between the ages of 20 and 30. (“Hey, Bobby, got a good one coming through for you on six.”)
So yeah, the TSA staff who run the machines are checking out the babes. Did you expect anything else? Should you be surprised when (and we could start a pool on this) we find out someone in the monitor room has been snapping photos of young women’s scans with his phone camera and passing them around at the bar? I say six months, at the outside.
Then there’s radiation. The makers of the full-body scanning devices say their machines emit very little ionizing radiation, less than one gets from the flight itself (at higher altitudes, people are exposed to more cosmic radiation). Of course, all information about new technologies tends to come from the manufacturers and is biased in their favor. But let’s accept that this information is correct. Here are two things about ionizing radiation: there is no safe dose and its effects are cumulative.
So is the occasional full-body scan likely to cause cancer? Low probability. But add it to the air travel, chest x-rays, dental x-rays (holy cow, see Tuesday’s New York Times on that?) and anything else you might encounter and where are you?
Of course, we have to weigh the risk that extra radiation for each of us against the chance that an ill-intentioned person will try to blow a planeload of us out of the sky and that’s life in America today.
I know my day of decision is coming. I don’t know when. At DCA or BTV or somewhere else, I’ll have to choose. On one hand, I watch what I eat and try to exercise; I’m in pretty good shape as I bear down on the half-century mark. If I were scanned, its unlikely anyone would want to take a phone photo or even remember I’d passed through. (By the way, I’ve got to think this will only drive the famous toward private planes if they can afford them.) (“Hey Bobby, we’ve got Christine O’Donnell – you know, the witch – coming through on six.”)
The pat down? All I can think of is the high school sports physical, a line of us in our briefs in a cold room in the school basement. Despite the chill, I’m aware of the sweat trickling from my armpit down my goose-fleshed flank. Get to the head of the line and the old doctor on the stool reaches into my briefs and roots around, checking for ruptures. “Turn to ze vall und koff.” (Did he really have a German accent? Seems that way.) I muster the best bark I can with an old man giving me the big squeeze and I’m released (in the most literal sense of the word).
Ehh… I think I’ll risk the radiation.
© Mark Floegel, 2010
The Big Squeeze
Happy Thanksgiving. The threatened “pat-down” protest at the nation’s airports didn’t materialize yesterday, so if you flew, that’s one thing you have to be thankful for. It’s not surprising, either. Regardless of how steamed you might be to read about full-body scans, I can’t think of anyone who wants to take more time getting through airport security. Nor can I think of anyone who wants to endure a groin massage in front of a live audience rather than pass through a glass booth, even if someone, somewhere is looking beneath your clothes. You can comfort yourself with the idea that unless you are physically exceptional for good or ill, the person in the screening room will not remember your body from among the hundreds she or he looked at yesterday.
I’m a frequent flyer, but have yet to have my full body scanned. We don’t have those devices at BTV (that’s Burlington International – jet-setters use pilot lingo), but they’re coming in 2011. They do have the machines at DCA (Washington National) but not at every security checkpoint and not everyone who passes through the checkpoints where they are present is selected for a full-body scan. I’ve never been selected. In fact, in the six months since I first witnessed the operation of full-body scanners, last week was the first time I saw anyone selected who was not an attractive female between the ages of 20 and 30. (“Hey, Bobby, got a good one coming through for you on six.”)
So yeah, the TSA staff who run the machines are checking out the babes. Did you expect anything else? Should you be surprised when (and we could start a pool on this) we find out someone in the monitor room has been snapping photos of young women’s scans with his phone camera and passing them around at the bar? I say six months, at the outside.
Then there’s radiation. The makers of the full-body scanning devices say their machines emit very little ionizing radiation, less than one gets from the flight itself (at higher altitudes, people are exposed to more cosmic radiation). Of course, all information about new technologies tends to come from the manufacturers and is biased in their favor. But let’s accept that this information is correct. Here are two things about ionizing radiation: there is no safe dose and its effects are cumulative.
So is the occasional full-body scan likely to cause cancer? Low probability. But add it to the air travel, chest x-rays, dental x-rays (holy cow, see Tuesday’s New York Times on that?) and anything else you might encounter and where are you?
Of course, we have to weigh the risk that extra radiation for each of us against the chance that an ill-intentioned person will try to blow a planeload of us out of the sky and that’s life in America today.
I know my day of decision is coming. I don’t know when. At DCA or BTV or somewhere else, I’ll have to choose. On one hand, I watch what I eat and try to exercise; I’m in pretty good shape as I bear down on the half-century mark. If I were scanned, its unlikely anyone would want to take a phone photo or even remember I’d passed through. (By the way, I’ve got to think this will only drive the famous toward private planes if they can afford them.) (“Hey Bobby, we’ve got Christine O’Donnell – you know, the witch – coming through on six.”)
The pat down? All I can think of is the high school sports physical, a line of us in our briefs in a cold room in the school basement. Despite the chill, I’m aware of the sweat trickling from my armpit down my goose-fleshed flank. Get to the head of the line and the old doctor on the stool reaches into my briefs and roots around, checking for ruptures. “Turn to ze vall und koff.” (Did he really have a German accent? Seems that way.) I muster the best bark I can with an old man giving me the big squeeze and I’m released (in the most literal sense of the word).
Ehh… I think I’ll risk the radiation.
© Mark Floegel, 2010