The security screener x-raying my piece of carry-on luggage looked perplexed and informed another security person that he wanted to run the bag through again to get a better look from a different angle. Two security personnel at SJC scrutinized my personal items as I gathered my other belongings from the provided plastic tub. I had placed them there before walking through the metal detector, which for some reason didn't make a peep about the over-sized metal belt-buckle I had forgotten to remove from my trousers and place in the tub with the other items.
My unmistakable orange and black bag sat on the end of the conveyor belt long enough for me to finish tying my shoes, and when I finished I inquired, "So, I'm good to go?" to which I received no reply. I figured they had satisfied themselves and moved on to other potential terrorists, so I picked up my bag and walked about three steps away, stopping for a couple of minutes to shoot the breeze with another security guy about how much the aeroport had changed recently. He informed me that the entire concourse we were standing in would soon be gone. I then left the security area and proceeded to my gate for what I anticipated to be a lengthy and boring two-hour wait. Boy, was I in for a surprise.
Knowing I wouldn't be eating for a few hours, I had taken a sandwich with me to eat as I waited for my flight. I consumed the food in a matter of minutes, and then walked across the corridor to use the restroom. About five minutes after returning to my seat at the gate, one of the security people walked by and made a visual survey of the area, giving me an especially close look before leaving the area. In less than a minute, she was back with about seven other security people, two of which were in suits and speaking to other security people on cellular phones. One of them said, "That's the bag!" pointing to my unmistakable orange and black bag sitting next to me. At that moment, I realized that my two hour wait wouldn't be as boring as I had expected.
One of the men wearing a suit and talking on a phone, asked me if I had removed anything from the bag or been anywhere else in the aeroport since I had arrived. I informed him that I had used the restroom and pointed to specify which one. The suited security guy conveyed my answers via his phone, then instructed four of the uniformed security people to search the restroom and the area where I had been sitting. He then informed me that I would be accompanying him to the security station where they could look at the contents of my bag again. As the security people and I made our promenade through he halls of the almost empty airport, I thought of a line from Dr. Otto and the Riddle of the Gloom Beam, one of my favorite movies, "This is great! Just like a police escort." It was almost fun until we turned the corner and I beheld countless frowny-faces of people lined up waiting to go through security. Apparently, a bag... my bag had disappeared while the contents were being analyzed, and no one was getting through security until they could determine that the situation was safe.
I was informed that they wanted to run my bag through the x-ray machine again, I told them to do whatever they need to do, and pulled out my cell phone to take video of the event, but immediately realized that might freak the security folks out, so I turned off the phone without saving the video. The glaring irate faces of the people waiting to catch their flights made me feel awkward, so after standing there for a couple of minutes, I sat down on a nearby chair not more than five feet from where I had been standing amidst a pool of security uniforms. Suddenly, I had disappeared, and security was freaking out again. First the bag, now the guy. "I'm right here," I volunteered with a bit of a tone of bewildered sarcastic irony from my chair five feet away.
A security woman took a seat next to me and requested a photo ID. I presented her with my passport and began answering a multitude of questions of which she recorded on a couple of pages of paper attached to a clipboard. I had been answering her questions for a couple of minutes when another security officer standing to my right suddenly became angry with me, and requested another photo ID. I was happy to oblige him with my California drivers license. As I handed it to him, I thought I heard him say that he had asked for my ID four times. He then walked away from me and sat at a table about eleven feet away, and began writing down the information from my drivers license. I was surprised and asked the other security woman if I had heard him correctly. When she confirmed that he had said what I thought I had heard, I suggested to her that he should speak up, because my hearing isn't what it used to be, and that I was doing my best to comply with their query.
The two security interviewers weren't through with me when I was informed by a suit guy that they wanted to open my bag. I can't understand why they hadn't done that sooner. I guess they must like playing with the x-ray machine, and keeping folks from their flights. I of course gave my consent, (like I could say no), and with blue latex gloves they began to unzip my bag.
"Here it is," one of the security guys said as he held out my very small computer. "What is it?" asked the interviewing officer. "It's a device that converts spoken words into readable text. It's called a Speak N Read, it's for deaf people, to help them communicate with other people." She wrote down her description of the item in her report and said that her parents were deaf. I suggested that she should buy a Speak N Read for them, but she informed me that they were dead. I let her know that the Speak N Read isn't for communicating with dead people... only for the deaf and severely hearing impaired.
Soon I was dismissed with an awkward thank you, and I returned to my seat where everyone was looking at me like I was a terrorist or something. Only a little more than an hour to wait, too.
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