I guess you’re not a clumsy italian that struggles to keep his trousers up whenever he’s forced to take off his belt, and who might be embarrassed by looking like a shoeless clown holding his trousers in front of hundreds of people, while somebody else opens his luggage for everyone to see – and I don’t mean the TSA people, I mean peers, colleagues, acquaintances who are often in the vicinity while this happens. I’m sure there are ways around it (ceramic-based belts are not one of them: guards don’t care if it’s made of rock or gold, it’s a belt and it must go), but why should a bureaucratic nightmare dictate what I should or should not wear, what I should or should not pack? If I wanted that, I’d have enrolled in the Army.
And the most humiliating thing is the constant lying. “You’ve been randomly selected”… 6 times in a row (true story!). A bit shitty that /dev/urandom, hey? Could it have anything to do with my nationality being different from the one of my home airport? Noo, of course not, all random. Oh, and this water I have here, it doesn’t matter if I drink 6 gallons in front of you or perform a chemical analysis on the spot that proves it’s coming from the purest river on Earth, I cannot keep it with me, because it would clearly explode.
The sort of treatment that does wonders for one’s self esteem, isn’t it? Not humiliating at all.
having to pat down little old ladies with titanium hips to make a living. Now that’s humiliating.
Well, they do get to play guards in this mass-scale Stanford experiment. There are worse fates: like having to play prisoners when you can’t pay your way out of it.