At the Albuquerque International Sun Port I ride two escalators, get my boarding pass, check my baggage, then get processed by airport security.

Channeled down a long winding roped off aisle with cutbacks, my airline ticket is initialed with a black ball point pen and my passport and driver’s license are checked for authenticity. A bespeckled TSA agent wearing latex gloves, and a dour expression, waves me towards the x-ray machines behind us,and still in line with other travelers, I load my cowboy boots into a plastic container along with my belt, wallet, keys, loose change, smart phone and laptop. My carry on bag is already moving down a conveyor belt ahead of me, stopped for a second while the belt operator looks at a strange shape in someone else’s luggage.

Next to get processed, like meat in a slaughterhouse, I am x-rayed, patted down, confirmed, and finally cleared to go to my assigned gate and board a plane to Uruguay.

Travelers in wheelchairs and diapers go through the same procedures I do, all of us stamped and approved by bland looking blue uniformed men and women doing their government work without a smile.

As our country turns totalitarian, keeping my eyes on all Exits is prudent.

To catch one terrorist we have all become guilty.

Proving yourself innocent costs more for a lawyer than i can afford.

 

 

 

 

 

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