The letter below was sent to my elected representatives (with the exception of Bobby Scott, who has never responded to my letters, except to ask for campaign contributions).

The TSA must be abolished. They’re out of control. And they’re an egregious violation of our fourth amendment rights. Further, it appears that their raison d’etreis to inflict more harm on our economy, specifically by destroying the airline industry.

Recently, I flew out of Atlanta and ended up in the “random pick” line for the Nude-o-scope (or porn-scope, as some people call them). I told the TSA barker that - due to personal and religious beliefs - I wanted to opt out.

I was treated like a criminal and made to wait 45 minutes, while at least 50 passengers moved on through the Nude-o-scope. I asked if I could retrieve my belongings (sitting alone at the end of the conveyor belt) and was ordered to “Stand still and don’t move.” I asked if I could move to a position where I could at least see my things. Again, the woman screeched at me to remain still.

It was a miracle that my laptop, wallet, cellphone and briefcase weren’t stolen.

Forty-five minutes later, after I’d had my crotch and breasts thoroughly examined by a $9 an hour employee, I was free to go. The entire affair was very punitive, and humiliating and time consuming and emotionally distressing. When I retrieved my things, I walked into the women’s restroom and wept.

Make no mistake - this was intended to be misery. I opted out. I’m a rebel, and judging by the TSA’s behavior, I must be punished.

Please stop the abuses of the TSA.

Sincerely,

Rosemary Thornton

Opting out of the scanner inflicts punitive measures on the traveler. I speak from experience.

Recently, I flew out of Atlanta and ended up in the “random pick” line for the Nude-o-scope (or porn-scope, as some people call them). I told the TSA barker that - due to personal and religious beliefs - I wanted to opt out.

She rolled her eyes and told me to step around the machine. In a strident voice, she then screeched, “I need a female attendant for a pat down!”

This was my first time dealing with this new technology, but I’d decided months ago that I was NOT going to be microwaved on “medium defrost” *and* have my 51-year-old body ogled by a TSA employee.

So the angry TSA attendant parked me next to the scanner and told me to stay still (as though I were a trained dog). I kept looking at the scanning device and and hoping that the Plexiglas shroud would effectively block the machine’s radiation.

Meanwhile, my personal belongings hit the end of the conveyor belt, but parked in my spot beside the scanner, I could barely see the gray bins containing my brand-new Toshiba laptop, my small leather wallet, my cell phone and my keys.

I literally pleaded with the TSA attendant to allow me to retrieve my personal possessions and she refused. I was traveling alone (as I often do). I then pleaded with her to allow me to at least be in the line of sight of my things and she again barked that I was to remain still.

“Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to your thangs,” she said, obviously annoyed.

“This is what happens when you opt out,” I thought to myself. “You lose your wallet and your laptop. Very, very effective.”

I watched the hordes of travelers moving through the “traffic lanes” of the security line, retrieving their personal items and realizing, anyone one of them could easily lift and pocket my things and no one would be the wiser. I was sick with fear. There were no TSA agents near my belongings (which I now realize was a blessing). No one watching out for them. All my things just sat at the end of that conveyor belt, about 20-25 feet away from me.

The minutes ticked by. I kept edging over a little more and a little more until I could at least SEE my personal things. The angry TSA agnet would periodically screech, “I need a female attendant for a pat down.”

Each time she screeched, I watched dozens of heads turn in the long line, eyeballing the crazy woman who’d been removed from the regular line and set aside. I served as an excellent example. While I dutifully waited for a female TSA attedant, not one other soul opted out of the scanner.

Dozens of passengers went by as I stood there, moving so close that they literally brushed past me. Finally, after a 30+ minute wait, a female appeared and moved me several feet away to another area. Now, I was closer to my things and could at least keep an eye on them.

The attendant started patting me down. She offered to allow me to do this in a private screening area, but I had declined for fear of losing my wallet, my cell phone and my laptop. It was a helluva bad spot to be in. Which was worse - this intense public pat down or having my things stolen? I opted for “b.”

Next, she ran a circular pad all over my clothes and then put it in the sniffer. This is where I nearly threw up with fear. Last time I’d gone to the target range with my .38, I’d worn these jeans. After firing the weapon, I often wiped my right hand on the right thigh of my pants. I wondered if the gunpowder residue would show up on that sniffer.

It was terrifying. I was nauseous and started to feel light-headed and faint.

Finally - 45 minutes later, it was over.

The entire affair was very punitive, and humiliating and time consuming and emotionally distressing. When I retrieved my things, I walked into the women’s restroom and wept.

Make no mistake - this was intended to be misery. I opted out. I’m a rebel, and judging by the TSA’s behavior, I must be punished.

To read the letter I wrote to my politicians, click here.

When I talk to my children about the halcyon days of airline travel, their eyes glaze over a bit. And then I tell them that - back in the day - my mother wouldn’t board an airplane unless she was wearing her white gloves and a fine hat (complementing her perfect outfit).

This video - introducing the first jet service on Pam Am really shows another era in flying.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKqQgNZylLw&feature=related

Thanks to terrorist du jour Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab , airline passengers will now have to remain seated one hour before landing, and during that last hour, they’ll not be allowed to access to their own carry-on bags (or anyone else’s, I would hope). For those who have been avoiding the television for the last 48 hours, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab is the Nigerian charged with trying to blow up NWA Flight 253 as it descended into Detroit Metro Airport on December 25th.

Three years ago, I took a one hour and 45 minute flight from Denver to Quinter, Kansas. After I made the reservation (and paid for the tickets), I learned that my plane was a 12-seater puddle jumper with no bathroom. For many days before the plane’s departure, I had nightmares about being stuck on a tiny little plane with no access to any bathroom.

And then the day of my flight arrived. As soon as the pilot shut the wee door to the wee plane, I suddenly had to go wee wee. For one-hour and 45 minutes, I did everything within my power to not think about how badly I needed to go. It was horribly unpleasant. And it was also an experience that I will never ever repeat.

Think about the implications of this new law. Practically speaking, it means that on 90-minute flight, there will be no access to the lavatory, period!

Speaking as someone who’s flown on many planes to many places, it’s typically 20-25 minutes into the flight before you’re allowed to “move about the cabin.” And now that the final hour is shaved off the moving around time, that’s pretty much a “sit-down-and-shut-up” arrangement for anyone on a 90-minute flight.

Many years ago, airlines stopped serving olives on their salads - in the hopes of saving money and reducing weight. Next, they ditched in-flight telephones to reduce weight. More recently, in-flight magazines were removed from planes.  Now, with this new law, it’ll probably be the restroom that gets removed from these CRJs and Embraers and other commuter planes.

What’s the point of hauling around a lavatory that weighs a few hundred pounds if the passengers will never be allowed out of their seats?

It’s enough to scare the &#^% out of someone.

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