Rick Seley

As my wife and I arrived at the airport we dropped off our luggage to be X-rayed and searched by uniformed government officers. Then we stood in line for our chance to show our tickets and ID to another uniformed government agent who, luckily, determined that our papers were in order.

Next we stripped off our jackets, belts and shoes, emptied our pockets and waited to walk through a metal detector monitored by yet another uniformed government agent. As we stood in line with the other barefoot travelers, I was thankful that the shoe bomber wacko hadn't tried to hide the bomb in his pants or we'd all be waiting in our underwear.

A few years ago this would have seemed like a scene from behind the Iron Curtain or some futuristic George Orwell movie, but in our post-9/11 world it was just a Tuesday at the Reno airport. As silly and un-American as it all sounds, I do it because I want to do my part to help the good folks at Homeland Security keep our country safe; that and because they will pull me aside for a cavity search if I don't.

After we survived the security checks and headed to our gate I grabbed a newspaper to read during the flight. As luck would have it the paper was full of stories about Homeland Security, the FBI and their ongoing efforts to make America safe from the terrorists and other evil-doers.

The first headline that grabbed my attention was about $4.5 billion of Katrina aid money that still had not been distributed by FEMA. According to this article, Homeland Security rules require cities to actually rebuild before FEMA is allowed give them money to rebuild. I know, it doesn't make sense to me either, but try to stick with me here.

It seems that the same folks who determined that a grandma with 3 ounces of shampoo is a sweet old lady but the same woman with 4 ounces of shampoo is a threat to national security have decided that only cities that already have the money to rebuild themselves are entitled to government money to rebuild themselves. My head is starting to hurt.

The next story was about the some problems with the FBI. I was a bit skeptical when I saw it because I'm a big fan of the FBI. When I was a kid I always watched the FBI TV show to see Efrem Zimbalist Jr. as Inspector Lewis Erskine. I loved watching them catch the bad guys, foil commie plots and defend the American way. Inspector Erskine and the boys were the good guys and to me, nothing says justice like middle-aged white guys in cheap suits.

Imagine my disappointment when I read that some bad guys might be getting away because the FBI lost some evidence. It's not like they lost the lead pipe that Colonel Mustard used to kill Miss Scarlet in the library - they lost wiretap evidence against suspected terrorists because they didn't pay their phone bill. One field office had $66,000 in delinquent phone bills! That's a lot of roaming charges, but I guess wiretapping isn't included in the unlimited night and weekend minutes in their telecommunications package.

Finally, my favorite story in the paper that day was about the good ol' TSA and its airport searches. It seems that while most of us wouldn't dare try to smuggle a nail file or a full-sized tube of toothpaste in our carry-on, some folks just haven't gotten the message. In 2007 the TSA intercepted 6.4 million banned items at airport screening stations including guns, knives and a near-lethal 5 ounce bottle of Jergens hand lotion.

Some passengers go to great lengths to sneak prohibited items on their flights. The TSA found a boa constrictor coiled in a shoe, tarantulas stashed in bags and one wacko even had baby alligator strapped inside his pants! While I doubt that the guy planned to use the gator to take over the plane, I'm glad they caught him. Any man willing to buckle himself into one of those narrow airplane seats with a meat-eating reptile strapped in his pants bears watching.

I can't help but wonder how the TSA screener caught him. I've been through dozens of TSA airport screening points and no one has ever asked, "Excuse me sir, but is that a baby alligator in your pants?"



Rick Seley is a Fallon resident.