Homeland security is a joke. I got two forms on the plane on the way down: immigration and customs. I filled them both out, and the immigrations and customs people asked me a couple of simple questions and sent me off. Ask me why, and I’ll tell you I think it’s because I look like a nice, trustworthy guy. Well, I am, but I just hope these people are all super-good judges of character.
On the way back to the US, on the other hand, I got two pieces of paper to fill out: Customs and Homeland Security. The homeland security dude was this big, burly, ex-military-looking white guy. The line was moving slowly but surely along until he got to the family in front of me, who he asked where they were residents. The United States. You’re all together? Yes. He glanced at the father’s passport and said “Go on,” then glanced at me and said “Go on.” again, as they were moving slowly. I held out my passport. He says “I said go on.” Whisky Tango Foxtrot?
Customs was different. They were very strict there. The guy looks at my passport and my customs sheet. He draws one great big vertical scribble on the paper. He hands me the customs sheet and my passport and says “You don’t need that any more.” I glance at my Homeland Security paper on the counter and say “And this? Will I need it later?” “Nope. You just killed a tree. Have a good night.”
I laughed and walked off with my gross lack of my explosives and contraband.
Oh, in the airport in San Jose, they did a bag check before we could board our plane. After changing our flight gate about an hour before boarding, they roped off the seating area and made us all get out. We stood in line and waited for them to call us one after the other to one of two tables where we opened our bags for them and let them go through everything. He glanced in the top of my laptop bag and was done with it. Not even a hand went in. He looked in my marmot pack, moved one smaller bag (Kia’s jewelry from the trip, which I brought back for her) to the side, ignored everything in the bottom, and said “Ok.” He never looked in my DSLR camera bag. He never checked the front pocket on my laptop bag or my Marmot. The whole security thing is embarrassingly half-assed, and designed to deter only the pettiest of criminals. I really think anyone seriously practiced and determined to do some damage wouldn’t really have much trouble doing it.
Especially if they were white and had honest enough looking eyes.
