Terror in the Air
by Robert S. Dotson M.D. 

It can get pretty fascist in here…
Thomas R. Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow

He had decided long ago that no Situation had any objective reality: it only existed in the minds of those who happened to be in on it at any specific moment.
Thomas R. Pynchon, V 

Circumstance recently forced me away from my familiar haunts for a business trip into the wilds of Virginia Beach. This was my first air travel since our British cousins enlightened the world concerning the threat posed to commercial aviation by contact lens solution, baby formula, and other liquid weapons of terror. The trip gave me an opportunity to see our own Department of Homeland Security at its finest – reveling in the renewed seriousness and importance that attended the announcement of an Orange Alert. I can confirm from this frontline foray into the ever-expanding War on Terror that things have taken an ominous turn – even Red Bull™ energy drinks now threaten Western Civilization! 

Flying from East Tennessee to Norfolk via USAir requires a change of planes at that carrier’s hub city of Charlotte, North Carolina. Travel to the Commonwealth State was, thankfully, uneventful on an early Sunday morning. Though we were subjected to all manner of dire warnings concerning liquid terror on both legs of the flight northward, most of these were delivered in a good-natured way – almost tongue-in-cheek – as if to say, “we realize how ridiculous this is, but we are forced to act irrationally by our superiors.” Like dutiful little robots we were all compliant in executing our assigned roles – sheeple, gatekeepers, enforcers – with minimal complaint and without significant inconvenience. The most terrifying part of the trip was deplaning in Norfolk airport to be greeted by the several-times-life-size, full-color visage of a leering Pat Robertson welcoming us all to the home turf of CBN. Hopefully, Venezuelan President Chavez will not visit Norfolk anytime soon!   

Having completed my meetings, I headed back to the airport on a Monday evening. Things seemed to be going well – no elevation of Orange Alert to Red - no signs of panic or extraordinary concern at the airport gates. Screening passed without the need for full disrobing or a body cavity search. The TSA employees all seemed to be in relatively good humor. 

Arrival in Charlotte soon brought a change in atmosphere, however. As the time for departure to Knoxville neared, arrived, and passed, it became apparent that something was amiss. There had been a gradual increase in agitated TSA and USAir employees in our gate area as the time crept by. Finally, we were informed of the “situation.” After the incoming plane had unloaded its human cargo at our gate (prior to re-loading for traveling on to Tennessee), some sharp-eyed citizen had found a handwritten note on the emptied plane with but one simple word: “bomb!” Doubtless, some pimply-faced young male left it as a sample of creative writing.

Needless to say, this had elicited all sorts of official reaction - more TSA troops were called in (complete with blue nitrile gloves), the Airport Police, the Bomb Squad, and bomb-sniffing dogs (are these the same as drug-sniffing dogs, I began to wonder, or is this some special breed?). After an extended period of hysterical bomb searching, the airplane and luggage were declared to be “safe” and we were allowed to file onto the plane and find our seats.

One of our fellow passengers, however, was somewhat out of touch concerning the importance of leaving all liquids outside of the airplane (doubtless, he was confused by the kiosk selling various drinks and snacks within a mere 12 feet of the gate). A youngish – get ready – middle-eastern appearing man with a yarmulke firmly planted atop his skull carried an open can of Red Bull™ onto the plane and, apparently, recognized his mistake as he reached his seat. Unhappily, he decided to proceed to the rear lavatory and pour his illicit liquid down the drain!

A passenger sitting opposite the lavatory door duly noted all of this suspicious activity. The alert, hugely overweight, civically minded young lady – doubtless, fearing the loss of future corporeal enlargement – quickly did the “right thing” and turned the suspected terrorist into the plane crew. What transpired was, in retrospect, both amusing and predictable. 

Watching from the rear of the plane: …I can see the stewardess’ excitement level climb following her recovery of the empty Red Bull™ can from a waste receptacle… …Hushed, agitated conversations take place among the crewmembers… …Furtive glances back toward the yarmulke-crowned suspect occur… Phone calls to security are made… And, then, the hammer falls: “Ladies and gentlemen, it will be necessary for everyone to immediately exit the airplane with their belongings!”

Bummer. So much for getting home before midnight!

After being evacuated from the airplane, we were greeted by a new troop of blue-gloved TSA agents. The unfortunate and ill-informed schlimazel was led away by a surly trio of individuals to an unknown destination (Guantanamo ran through my mind). By this time, several passengers were not-so-quietly suggesting lynching as an appropriate response to being inconvenienced yet again – both for the perpetrator and for the USAir staff. We, the remaining passengers, were then lined up against a wall (“with all your belongings on the floor in front of you!”) and subjected to our own special processing. My gluteal muscles involuntarily began to spasm at the imagined fear of a cavity search.

Blue gloves proceeded to pat, grope, and wand, each of us in our turn. Following this exercise in bureaucratic stupidity, we were all sent to a newly designated “holding” area (declared “sterile” by the Agent in Charge) at the gate where we were instructed to not leave our seats. We were sternly advised that we could only visit the bathroom facilities with permission and a TSA escort! Simultaneously, of course, our airplane was getting its own version of the blue glove and sniff treatment.

At the end of this Pynchonian charade, we were finally declared “safe” and cleared for departure. The USAir folks were beside themselves in apologizing for the “inconvenience” (but not for the indignity and idiocy, I noticed). They offered those who might have been terrified by the evening’s events free passage on a flight the following morning and free accommodations for the night. Our portly informant and her companion apparently chose to spend the night in Charlotte to celebrate a job well done. Our unfortunate Red Bull imbiber was freed to continue on his journey, but we were informed that he would be traveling by “another route” (Gulfstream to Cuba?) to allay all our fears. Upon take-off the pilot wryly noted that we must be on the safest plane in America in light of the multiple searches. The contaminated lavatory was locked throughout the flight, just in case.

Finally, at one in the morning of the next day, we landed amidst the violent pyrotechnics of an East Tennessee thunderstorm. Safe. Tired. Thankful. Perplexed by the sheer absurdity of the preceding events and the world as it has become.

What can one glean from all of this? I suppose, nothing that we don’t already know or suspect. The likelihood of a commuter plane on a Charlotte to Knoxville run being hijacked by anybody – much less terrorists, of course - is far less than the odds that we will be “left behind” in the near future by the Rapture or that the ruling junta in Washington will voluntarily leave office. 

Our once relatively free nation is disappearing inch by inch in front of our very eyes. Though the signs are visible to all of us, we continue to shuffle along in our “dead man walking “ mode – un-reacting, stuporous, resigned. Though one could rightly argue that it has always largely been an illusion for the common man, the fact remains that the image of America the Free – Defender of Liberty and Dispenser of Justice – is dissipating in the afternoon sun of her existence.

Slowly at first - now rapidly – we see a new and monstrous Amerika forming from the bones of the old. Like the coming of a Balrog from the depths of Tolkien’s Middle Earth, you can hear and feel the deep subterranean drum-drum-drumming as the dark form begins to lift itself out of the pit into full view. The societal change that is coming – the cultural cataclysm – is far along and will not be easily diverted down a more humanitarian path. In his recent book, Failed States, Noam Chomsky rightly points out that our land exhibits all of the signs of such a state – a loss of safety, of democracy, and of freedom. Perhaps, this is simply the inevitable end of every Empire. 

The loss of our liberties – our inability to learn from our past – our inability to plan for the future – our helplessness in the face of obvious growing evil – are all great tragedies. But, tragedy can ultimately bring catharsis and new beginning, and that is the hope. The farce of Red Bull™ threats and blue-gloved storm troopers being played out beneath the five-colored rainbow of Threat Advisories signals the beginning of the final act of our own morality play, “Amerika: The Dream.” It will be interesting to see how the story ends. …And, yes, I can confirm that the Fat Lady has already begun to sing!

If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers.
Thomas R. Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow

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