Wednesday, November 3, 2010

He Who Rules the Mob

Morning, readers! I am pleased to report that all City Dangers bloggers survived The Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear in D.C. this past weekend. Despite the estimated 200,000-strong crowd, and the huge potential for disaster, the day was a certified success... filled with sunshine, media-skewering jokes, and naturally, Ozzy Osbourne & Cat Stevens performing a duet.
A moderate and sane bottleneck.

While the politeness of the masses was appreciated at the time, it created a gaping void of topics for a new blog post. I was so sure we'd have a brilliant lesson in danger come out of the day, but in the end we were only moderately inconvenienced by a bottleneck upon exiting. Even then we had hilarious signs to entertain us. I'll leave it to my fellow blogger to hone in on any other slight Rally dangers.

But to take a cue from Stephen Colbert's fear theme, good-humored masses could VERY easily turn into an unruly mob at any moment. In fact, I encountered a much more dangerous group scenario at Reagan National Airport on my way home to Chicago.

Perhaps I've just been spoiled and/or lucky, but I haven't had a miserable airport security experience in quite some time. [I did lie my way through French security this year, but that only had the effect of helping me skip the line. Cheaters do prosper.] Maybe it is the nature of the airports I frequent. Cleveland Hopkins: always empty. Chicago O'Hare: surprisingly efficient. Boston Logan: a Dunkins every five feet to keep you pleased.

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses...
also your belt, shoes, and jacket.
Reagan was deceiving. Upon arrival, the concourses were sparsely populated, giving me hope that I'd sail through to my gate. That's when I realized that ALL of the people in the airport were in fact huddled in a winding line for security.

I took my place at the back of the mob, but felt pretty relaxed. "Plenty of time," I thought. Minutes ticked by and with them, my feeling of optimism. A cross-check of my neighbors' faces told a similar story of mounting anxiety. I imagined the thought running through every mind was, "Dammit. I am not missing my sold out flight because some jerk up there cannot figure out the 3-1-1 rule." As I made a crucial turn in the queue, I was forced to face the expressions on the long line of people behind me. Annoyance, frustration, barely-contained jealousy...hostility. Hey, I put in my time, people! Don't make eye contact. They may revolt.

With ten minutes to spare until my boarding call, I conveniently set off the metal detector and was ushered into a glass case of emotion for further inspection. Officer Keister (seriously) came over to brush my hands with a tiny scrubber, presumably to run a check for enriched uranium, and disappeared with the promise that he'd 'be right back.' Five minutes to go. A female officer comes to... let me go?...nope, to attempt to scrub my hands again. Attitude. It was dished. Without continued poking at my person, I was free to run for my gate. As I rushed to my plane, who did I spot in line for McDonald's? Officer Keister. Touché, sir.

And that's the story of how I got my enriched uranium through airport security. Kidding! But it is the tale of how I've had enough of large masses of people for the time being. Note to self: all Christmas shopping will be done online this year.

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