Mike Cox

My biorhythms must have been out of kilter recently. I was forced to travel to Ohio twice this winter. The first time, as the cabin door opened in Cleveland, snow was blowing into the plane. Although the second visit was colder, there were a couple of colors other than gray on the horizon. But the weather was the least of my troubles.

Flying these days has become a challenge, an extreme test for those who value both freedom and common sense. I know we are supposed to be safer these days, but it appears to me the security process is designed to make us feel secure without singling out a particular group of people.

I watched an extremely old man being helped out of a wheelchair so he could remove his shoes and walk through the metal detector. He could barely stand but was treated as if he had attended a terrorist training camp.

The whole shoe thing bothers me a little anyway. What makes shoes more dangerous than underwear? Isn't it just as easy to conceal a weapon or explosive device in your drawers as your shoes?

I also have a problem with the general bureaucracy of the system. Rules are in place for no apparent reason. No exceptions are allowed unless the security guard wants one. Iron-clad orders are changed at the whim of an overworked, harried officer for the sake of convenience. Is that security?

Besides, when you consider the quality of those in charge of security, few of us feel really secure. I don't mean to disparage anyone's ability to do their job, and I'm sure most of the employees for FAA are top notch, but it appears the ones guarding the gates at the airports I visit would behave like mall cops in a crisis.

After boarding a plane, you enter a world where people with the mentality of the cosmetics clerks at Wal-Mart suddenly have the power of Air Marshals. Requests and suggestions from years back are now thinly veiled orders. You can just feel them thinking "Go ahead, make my day."

On my second trip North, I left Columbia five hours after I arrived at the airport, three after I was scheduled. Of course I missed my connector in DC, but was one of the lucky ones who scheduled a backup, once a United employee was located to handle the reservations desk.

The guy had a nice sense of humor. He looked me in the eye, smiled confidently, and assured me my luggage would follow me wherever I went. My baggage arrived at my hotel at three am, seven hours after I did. The complimentary toiletries weren't needed or the underwear I washed in the sink and had hanging on the shower rack, so it could have been worse.

And I bet you didn't know there is no such thing as lost luggage. The form I filled out said Delayed Luggage. I don't guess that's any more ridiculous than the folks at the terminal entrance being called security officers, though. Is it?