Isolation

Clearly I am a security threat. A one-way ticket to Kenya, with a visa for Sudan in my unsigned passport, but no Kenya visa, and no ticket into Sudan. Conversations are happening ahead of me amongst security personel. They have taken my backpack off the conveyor belt. They are pointing and moving toward me in a pincer formation, closing in..... What would Jason Bourne do. Jason Bourne would kick some airport ass, get his granola bags back and

"Please step over here, Sir."

I am made to wait inside an incubator-like glass isolation chamber, shoeless. My dress socks have no holes in the toes, for once. Regular non-threatening passengers on their way to normal places like Atlanta and Chicago zip by me and collect their carry-ons. I make as if everything is cool - yeah I'm in the incubator but I do this all the time when I travel. Yeah I LIKE waiting in the incubator in my socks.

A skinny pimply young man in an ill-fitting uniform asks me to step out of the incubator and over to a white line. He has one of those cricket bat metal detectors and asks me to raise my arms. Then he launches into an airport schtick that he must have rehearsed a thousand times in the mirror in the bathroom of his mother's house, where he surely still lives.

In an overly loud voice, he asks in a monotone rapid fire drill sergeant tone: "Sir I'm going to ask you this once and only once but do you have anywhere on your person any laser pointers laser rockets or laser guided missiles any rocket launchers M150s AK47s Glock 9s or Smith & Wessons of any caliber any pocket knives nunchuks or Chinese flying stars explosive devices kalashnikovs..." you get the picture. When he was done I just asked him if he was done and put on my shoes.

Miracle of miracles, I have made it into the waiting area.