Like a lot of other people, I read Anne Jacobsen’s article ‘Terror in the Skies, Again?‘ with interest and not a little anxiety.
Tenacious G read it, and asked me what I thought. My reply was – “I’m not sure, and I think it would be good if all of us were a bit uncertain as well.” I see that Donald Sensing shares some of my skepticism. Here’s the deal; having flown a fair amount lately, I’m eminently convinced that much of the security in place is what Bruce Schnier (I’d strongly suggest subscribing to his e-newsletter, and I owe a review of his book) calls ‘theatrical security.’ So the general concerns raised in the article are more than valid. But as to the story itself, let me counter by telling one of my own.A long time ago, I took a one-day writing class from a semi-famous writer through UCLA. We met in Westwood village, in a building that had once house a club I used to go to, and the class was fun and somewhat useful. Most useful – and fun – was the incident that happened right after we regrouped for lunch.
The building entrance was on an alley, and as I walked back with a few others from my burger, I noticed three homeless men, sitting on the steps, eating their lunches. One was daintily eating a yogurt with a plastic spoon, and I remember remarking “What a healthy guy!!” as we went up the elevator.
A few minutes later, one of the women students dashed into the classroom, exclaiming that she’d been confronted by a homeless man with a knife. I moved to the front of the room, and asked her ‘did you see the knife? what did he look like? where did this happen?’ and was told he’d been in the corridor, she was sure she’d seen the knife, and he was a homeless guy. The teacher locked the door and used the room phone to call the University police.
Then, as I walked to the door and opened it to look and see what was going on, one of the homeless guys – my yogurt-eating guy – was walking by. I stepped in front of him and told him “Hey, man, you can’t be in here. You need to leave right now – come on with me and I’ll walk you out.” Another man from the class stepped out to join me, shouting instructions at the homeless guy – “Show me your hands! Do it!” and generally acting like he had Monster Kody standing in front of him holding a boo-yah. I told him to shut up or leave, so he was silent as we walked the homeless guy out to the elevator, rode down with him, and walked him to the street. I asked him: “So, do you have a knife? Did you show it to a woman wearing a yellow shirt?” “No, man, I don’t have a knife. I was eating my lunch and I asked her for some change, and she freaked out.”
Then I saw the white plastic handle of a spoon sticking from his back pocket.
Hmmmm. I thought, He probably did have something shiny in his hand…
Homeless people generally don’t commit armed robbery on civilians (non-homeless people); they have no where to run to, no means of escape, and they are usually smart enough to know that they’ll be busted right away for it (note that this doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be attentive when walking down a dark alley with one, just that you’re more at risk from a bunch of teenage kids). But they are scary, and it’s a more logical narrative to me that when one person – already scared by the presence of a homeless man where he wasn’t supposed to be – saw a homeless man with a plastic spoon in his hand, she read it as ‘knife!!’ and reacted appropriately (note that trained police officers have been known to make similar mistakes).
Similarly, there are two competing narratives we can construct out of Jacobsen’s story.
On one hand, a dry run or failed mission by a group of terrorists, as she suggests.
On the other, a group of foreign musicians, already somewhat out of place, being bad-vibed beyond belief by the rest of the passengers, and so acting with a less-then affable demeanor, and doing what I’ve done in the past when flying with large groups of people, which is to walk around and congregate so we can chat.
Which do I think is the case? I have no idea. Would I have prevented them from flying? Probably not. I think that the idea of limiting the number of Arabic men flying together is kinda absurd; no one’s taking a plane over and flying it anywhere these days, and if I want to blow a plane up in midair, I don’t need 14 men to do it.
So what would I have done? TG wanted to know, and the answer is pretty simple. I’d have walked up to them and chatted. Annoyingly cheerfully. “Hey! How you doing? You waiting for the bathroom, too? Where are you guys from? Where you going? Isn’t that cool?” Their responses – both verbal and nonverbal – would have determined what happened next.
I’ve done things like this in the past – in a parking structure with four thugged-out kids. There are a couple of reasons why it’s a good idea. First, because it lets you set the tempo for whatever is going to happen. My parking lot kids may have been would-be muggers (I was once unsuccessfully mugged in a parking structure in Santa Monica), or four honor-roll kids out for a night in the town. By walking up to them and asking a question – “Hey, do you know how to get to the Edwards movie theaters from here?” – I created a situation in which they would react, one way or another, on my timeline, rather than theirs, and in a setting chosen by me, rather than by them. By being cheerful beyond belief, instead of saying something confrontational like “You’re creeping me out,” I don’t unnecessarily start a confrontation, or leave four good kids muttering about racist assholes as I walk away. I’m more sympathetic to women, who use the ‘Model Mugging’-approved technique of telling someone “You’re making me uncomfortable, please back away,” but I still think a more cheerful wording and tone could be used to convey a similar message.
So, in Jacobsen’s case, simply walking up to the suspicious characters and introducing yourself would have gone a long way to sort out what was going on – and at no meaningful cost.