Fun and Awkward: A Brown Man's Guide to the Airport

I find racial profiling at the airport to be absurd (when I say absurd, I mean it in the form of the comically absurd and not in any form of anger towards the situation). So, as a brown man who travels alone and could potentially be confused along racial lines for being a terrorist, I take an absurd approach to being in the environment of an airport. In my mind, I have absolutely nothing to hide, and at 5'9” and 145 lbs., this is the only place where I can walk around and actually feel like I'm intimidating people. So, I play the role. I never smile. I look around as if trying to find the other guys in the operation. I relish the concerned looks on people's faces. Have I gotten pulled out of the line at the security checkpoint? Sure. The average brown man may be annoyed by airport racial profiling in its general form, but my annoyance actually comes in its implementation more so than its existence.

In the lead-up to my trip, I was hounded by the media coverage of the full body scanners and the concern over its potential violation of our privacy. Despite this issue and the numerous wrongs that have occurred to some individuals as a result of full body scanners and more intense checks, I found myself having no problems at all going through the security checkpoints.

Currently, the Columbus airport has decided to have TSA officers at gates as well to do further random checks (in this case, it was just checking the ID of each passenger prior to boarding the airplane). I was seated at my gate dressed casually – a T-shirt and jeans with a spring jacket and a Columbus Blue Jackets hat on my head. I could be confused more for an American (which I am) than a terrorist (which I am not). Then again, I could be a terrorist which the terrorist cell purposefully dressed up as to look American. “Give him a Columbus Blue Jackets hat...make him look like he's from the area! Plus, it's obscure—not like a Detroit Red Wings hat, which would make him seem too American and blow our cover!”

As I sat at my gate, I was reading David Cross's book, I Drink for a Reason. Two TSA officers were walking around the general area of the gate either doing nothing, talking to each other, or making general chit-chat with some of the people waiting with the subject matter being probably related to their vacations – since it was a flight to Orlando, there were a number of families on their way to Disney World. The two officers approached me a few minutes before boarding began for the flight as I was sitting reading my book. Here is loosely the transcript of the conversation:

TSA Female: “How's that book?”

Me: “Uhh, it's funny. I'm a fan of his stand-up comedy, so I like it.”

TSA Female: “Oh, what's it about?”

Me: “Well, basically, each chapter is him just picking a topic and then making fun of it or making points and joking around about it.”

TSA Female: “Oh, so it's a comedy book?”

Me: “Yes.”

The conversation went on like this until I finally admitted I was a stand-up comedian (to be honest, if you want to get the TSA off your back, use this line even if you're not a stand-up comedian – once they know you tell jokes, this automatically means you are no longer a threat under the apparent notion that “he's funny, so he couldn't possibly kill us”). The male TSA officer then talked to me about comedy which culminated in him asking to see my name not for any actual security purposes but rather to say that he wanted to tell people that he met me if I ever make it big. Given how long my name is and how uneventful this experience was for him, I'd be impressed if he remembers who I am. I will be more impressed if I actually become famous.

All in all, the main point of this situation is the uselessness and ridiculousness of the conversation as a whole. In it, both the TSA officers and myself know what's going on. I'm being judged purely by my looks. While I'm not for that, I understand it, and have nothing to hide. However, what's silly is the notion of trying to cover up racial profiling. Over the course of the conversation with both officers, their supposed cover for the conversation got shredded apart. It began with the female officer not even realizing it was a comedy book, thus acknowledging that she had no idea who David Cross was, so why even express an interest in the book? On top of that is the silly connection being made that a man reading a book called I Drink for a Reason could be deemed threatening (again, I'm willing to sidestep this notion under the idea that my terrorist cell Americanized me for this trip or if, in fact, it's revealed that 9/11 terrorists were reading Keyshawn Johnson's Just Give Me The Damn Ball! prior to their actions). The male officer's conversation with me about comedy only further concluded that he knew little about the subject – he likewise had no idea who David Cross was and did not know Arrested Development when I referenced it as a show that Cross had been on.

Essentially, rather than this sideshow of faking the racial profiling involved with some sort of mask of interest in talking to me, I'd much rather you just not question me or just ask me for my identification to review. I do not mind having an awkward but pleasant conversation as this one was, but given the actual content of the talk, it seems so silly for there to even have been a back-and-forth between us. Absurdity exists because there is no humanity left in this entire process. Just as people feel they are sacrificing their rights to enter body scanners, I feel I'm sacrificing my authenticity as a human being. If you wish to talk to me, talk to me out of an actual interest in the conversation. If you wish to talk to me under suspicion, then follow the necessary reasonable guidelines to check who I am, and let's get this over with.

In conclusion, I returned home safely. I live to travel and intimidate once again.