If you ever saw the movie Total Recall, you've seen airport security as it will be. As The Governator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, walks through a tunnel an X-ray machine projects his skeletal frame onto a wide screen in an nearby control room.
Returning to the USA last week from Mexico, our plane landed in San Francisco, where we would go through customs (and security). In Mexico, the security at the airport could best be described as perfunctory. Yeah, I set off the metal detector as I always do, but instead of the frisking, questions and patdown, I just got a quick pass with wand. No liquids out, no computer out, no shoes or belt or jacket off. It was almost like the old days.
In San Francisco, going through the gauntlet to get back to the US, I was placed in an entirely new (to me) machine. It's an extremely sleek and futuristic looking booth. I told my traveling partners it looked like something the Nazis might have dreamed up in 2000, if they'd been around. This booth smells you!
You step inside. The doors silently slide closed and the machine begins blowing air around you and directing jets of air at spots on your body. It stops, analyzes the air for explosive residue, and flashes a little green light to say you can proceed. I was blown by the TSA.
The Sentinel non-invasive walk-through scanner that can screen
more than 400 people per hour for explosives or for narcotics
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Showing posts with label Alaska Airlines. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alaska Airlines. Show all posts
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
OK, I may complain about aviophobia and being in Newport Beach. . .
. . .but this afternoon, is not so bad. I was in the pool fifteen minutes after landing. I swam for a while hit the hot tub, and then worked for a couple of hours, and now I am off to walk to a great Mexican grill a mile and a half from here (the dreaded NB Radisson). They grill snapper, squid, and these incredible fat, juicy shrimp marinated in lime and herbs and serve them with a fantastic jicama-radish-mesclun salad, perfect chipotle beans, a stack of fresh, warm corn tortillas, and salsa that is on a par with those at La Carta de Oaxaca. Oh, and ice cold Pacifico on tap. The last time I was there, dessert was grilled pineapple sprinkled with lime and a sort of turbinado sugar that carmelizes with the lime. When I come back I can work on some poetry. Life could be worse. If my family was with me, it might even be living.
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