by Michael Collins

Newsflash--Airline passenger warns TSA agent: “Don’t touch my junk!”

What’s the big deal?

I have been getting “groped” by Transportation Security Administration (TSA) agents since they were first assigned to airports. My friends and I, who have a variety of disabilities, have endured hundreds of undignified full-body searches in the interests of keeping air travel safe. As someone who uses a power wheelchair, travel has never been simple and airport security has always been especially problematic. With that in mind, I don’t understand all of the concern now being expressed by those who have simply been able to walk through metal detectors before grabbing their carry-on bags off the scanner belt and heading for their planes with minimal delays in the past.

Despite numerous requests to do so, I have never walked through a metal detector or removed my belt, coat or shoes. I did remove a wool neck scarf once, for a search in Boston, but when I returned to retrieve it a few minutes later it had disappeared. I avoid the disrobing by explaining that my attendant dresses me in bed each morning before transferring me into my wheelchair. After pondering that, no TSA agents have been willing to put my clothes or other items back on me again, so the hands-on search is their preferred choice.

At first the searches were only a quick pass-over with a hand-held metal-detecting wand. Eventually the agents began to do rubdowns with the backs of their hands, avoiding those “intimate areas.” After a few well-publicized breaches of airport security worldwide, the searches got more complicated. There were plenty of disclaimers of course, asking if I had sensitive areas, and explaining over and over that they would only use the backs of their hands to fondle my “junk.” I guess that backhand method makes it okay, but I wouldn't recommend trying that approach on a first date or in other settings.

No matter how much I lobbied for it, I have never been able to get the agents to throw in a quick massage when their hands were roving over my back and shoulders. I also think there is some money to be made by the first person who mixes in a little shoe polish with the explosive-detecting swabs that they rub over my shoes each trip. Nobody seems interested in either of those options—yet.

I will have to admit that it gives me a type of perverse pleasure when the new agents who are usually assigned to frisk me come across the latex tubing that meanders from my private parts down the outside of my leg and hooks up to the dreaded leg bag and beyond that to the electric leg bag emptier. No, I don’t forewarn them, as that wouldn’t be anywhere near as interesting. I have, however, tried to guess whether they would simply ask what this apparatus was that they were feeling rather than retracing the route and trying to figure it out on their own. The two approaches to solving that mystery are about equally divided so far.

Once the security forces are assured that I am not a rolling explosive device of some type, it is usually the practice to get me approved and out of their area as quickly as possible. It is almost as if they have been caught doing something that they shouldn't have been doing.

I’ve picked up a few tips for reducing the stress of the security processes during the past few years. They may not work for everyone, but they work for me:

1. Don’t get uptight. This is important. It’s likely that the security staff are as intent on doing the right thing as you are and, to top it off, their boss might be watching.

2. If you use a mobility device, know how it works. Be prepared to explain what is located under a particular cover, what that switch operates and what type of batteries it uses (if it has any).

3. When you’re done, say thanks and ask if they have any questions. You might be surprised at the responses you get.

Since it takes me about five times as long to get through security as those who are walking through, I predict plenty of long lines and much frustration in airports across the land during the busy travel season ahead as other travelers are introduced to the joys of frisking. In consideration of that, I’m staying home for the holidays.

© 2010 Michael Collins

One dead battery caused me quite a bit of grief last month. It was a normal weekday morning, with my regular attendant scheduled to arrive before 7 a.m. (I know that’s late, but I’m semi-retired now). It was still dark at that time, at least in my bedroom, but I was awake at the allotted time of arrival. Amazingly, he didn't walk through the front door on schedule. In fact, things were about to get worse.

My front door is opened by a door opener that is operated with a digital touchpad mounted on the outside wall. Like many things in our lives, it is powered by a battery. On that particular morning, the battery went dead without advance warning. Under normal circumstances that wouldn't be that “big a deal.” I would have a spare key hidden somewhere near the front door, or I could simply call a nearby family member to bring a key to the house to open the door. That wasn't the case on that fateful day, and the reason things got worse was entirely my fault.

When I moved into my new house early this year, I didn't change the battery in the door opener control when I reinstalled it. I also hadn't gotten around to hiding a key in the front yard. There would be plenty of time for that later, or so I presumed. I have also gotten in the habit of using my cell phone for most telephone conversations during the day, so this particular attendant had never called me on my home phone. He actually didn't know how to reach me on my landline phone when I didn't have access to my cell phone.

By coming around to the back of the house and hollering through the window, my attendant was finally able to call me on my phone. My normal backup family members were unavailable as well, as my brother was fishing and one daughter was on a business trip. The other daughter’s phone was apparently turned off for the night. After repeated phone calls, she was contacted and delivered the spare key.

Over an hour late, my attendant finally began the day's routine which allows me to get up and about. No harm was done, and a spare key is now hidden near the front door. All of my attendants now have a card that contains all of my contact information.

Due to the nature of our disabilities, are some of us who live alone considered to be “risk-takers?” Independent living requires us to plan for the unexpected, and to be prepared for most types of emergencies. The presence of a disability can complicate many situations that other households might not consider threatening.

If we are unable to get out of bed without assistance, we can't get up to answer the door. If we live in a rural environment, will it be possible for caregivers to reach us in the event of a major storm or similar emergency? Who will build a fire in the fireplace or start a generator if the power goes out during the winter? If your telephone line uses the same fiber optic cables as the television, how would you call out when the power or cable television is out?

Do you have plenty of food and water available in the house if you get stranded for days during emergencies? Do your neighbors know enough, or how, to check on you if they see no movement around your house on a particular day? I know that none of us like nosy neighbors, but they might be just what the doctor ordered when things go bad. For those of us who live alone we need to have answers for all of those situations.

Maintaining communication at all times is probably the biggest factor when it comes to our safety. When I'm in my wheelchair I have my cell phone with me, and I can also reach a couple of telephone sets that are at different places in the house. At night, there is always a speakerphone lying next to me on with a list of important numbers taped to it. Unless we forget, there is also a touch light lying next to the phone, so I can read those numbers.

We owe it to our loved ones to minimize the risks of living independently. Preparation for emergencies of any type, and a backup plan to use when systems fail, can reduce the “worry factor” and help avoid the complications that might occur when things go wrong. Take a look around your environment, and see if there are any risk factors that you might be able to eliminate. It's worth the effort, trust me.

© 2010 Michael Collins