Maybe I was wrong about screenings

Nice thing about not being a teenager or a young man anymore is I don't have to know everything. It's such a relief to be able to say "I don't know" or "maybe I was wrong about that" and not care about being wrong. Case in point: my opinion of what the folks at the Transportation Security Administration subject us to at airports these days.

I know, I know, the big controversy over the searches and such. I hate them too. But I'm not specifically talking about that. I'm talking about the supposed "random selections" they make on who to pull aside for additional screening.

For a long time, I was able to count on my family and I getting pulled aside for "additional screening" whenever we flew. They screen the whole family - my wife, Glenny, myself and each of our children - and I had no idea why. The screening, which even included little Benjy since he was old enough to toddle, got on my nerves.

So a couple of years ago as we were checking in, I mentioned to the gal how I just knew that we were going to get selected and how tiresome it was. To this day I have no idea what she did. Frankly, I didn't think the ticket agents were able to do anything about it, but when she handed us our boarding passes she simply said, "You won't be getting pulled aside anymore."

Ever since, we never have been. Weird.

Then there's our good friend Mohan. Mohan was born and raised in India. He is extremely well educated and has lived and traveled all over the world. He hit it off with an American co-worker and after getting married, she insisted they move back to the U.S. Even with his education, jobs weren't coming easy and while accompanying somebody else on a trip to the U.S. Army recruiter's office he got pulled aside and asked, "Interested in a career in the Army?" Shortly thereafter, Mohan became a soldier for Uncle Sam.

But whenever my smart, patriotic Hindu friend travels the TSA and fellow passengers treat him horribly. Never mind that he is educated, Indian and a Hindu, when people see his dark skin he's treated to terse, clipped, monotone commands by TSA agents and airline staff. His bags always get extra attention. People won't sit by him at the gate. He gets sideways glances that quickly dart away when he looks up.

When I asked him about what happens when he flips out his military I.D., he said it's amazing how suddenly everything changes. But he refuses to take advantage of that and show it right off the bat because, frankly, as an American (he's a citizen) he shouldn't have to. And the fact that things improve after they realize he's U.S. military only upsets him more because it just makes the situation that much more obvious.

So what does any of this have to do with my opening statement that "maybe I was wrong?" Because here's the deal; it wasn't too long ago that I would rant and complain about how our PC-addicted country was behaving ridiculously at airports with random searches.

"Why are they yanking senior-citizen women out of line for extra inspection while letting three middle-eastern men in robes walk right through?" I would say. Forget the knee-jerk reaction I would hear about "racism" and such. As far as I was concerned, the facts supported that these men be scrutinized. It was common sense. It was logical.

But then I married Glenny. Glenny is a very dark-skinned Filipina. She's also a U.S.-born daughter of a retired Navy vet who is one of the most patriotic, flag-waving, all-American girls I have ever met. Now, I'm not saying that her appearance is the reason we always found ourselves getting the extra attention at the airports. Then again, I'm not so sure that it's not the reason.

But with even more certainty I can attest to Mohan's treatment. What a rich reward for a U.S. soldier to be treated in such a way each and every time he travels. So here I am with my wife (and me by association), children and good friends getting "special attention" by the TSA. I gotta tell you, I don't like it. Not one bit.

It wasn't long before I was re-thinking my position on such matters, and suddenly I wasn't such an advocate of what had previously made so much sense to me. Amazing how a little personal up-close perspective can do to get a guy to re-think things. I'm a changed man.

If you're expecting me to wrap up my little weekly article with some sort of solution to the matter, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the wheels are still turning in my head on this one. I still feel as though my country buries its collective head too deep in the sands of political correctness. As much as I hate the security lines at the airport, I understand why they are there and agree that we need them.

But I also now realize how it feels to be part of the group that would suffer if we tossed out sensitivity and began targeting people who fit a stereotype. I'm sure some of you reading this have your own ideas, opinions and maybe even some great ideas on the best solutions to this mess. Surely there must be some solution to improving the process while, at the same time, making sure it doesn't involve discrimination. I would love to hear them.

Ben Compton is a Palmer resident and publishes his column as "Compton's Corner," the same title used by his grandmother, Phyllis Compton, a longtime Frontiersman columnist.