The most "patriotic" place in the world

Hi, everyone. Just got into Las Vegas late last night, flying Jetblue from Boston. I spent a significant amount of time at Logan as my friend had to leave me early in order to get a few other errands done after he dropped me off.

Logan is dealing with a great onus on it right now, having been the beginning of Flight 11 on 9/11. And it shows. TSA officers are everywhere. And photo panels are in a lot of places as well, with the ole red-white-and-blue waving and a general air of solemnity and such.

I flew to Toronto back in October, but that was different, dealing with more Canadians than Americans, and a more cosmopolitan atmosphere. I could speak a little more flippantly at times, and the general air of sympathy for those of us stuck with the CiC who despised him was high. I had the distinct (though possibly erroneous) impression that I dare not open my mouth about my dissenting opinion or my intense hatred for everything repuke.

It makes flying a near terrifying experience in some ways. You believe you're going somewhere to enjoy yourself, but when you get to the airport, you are under great scrutiny right from the beginning of your trip. It seems like you're being watched every moment, even if you're not. If you look "up" into someone's face, it almost feels like you're challenging them, not being "direct"--the attitude normally associated with eye contact. You can't actually say anything in a humorous way about anything violent, or otherwise you risk an assault on you by a dozen or more cops and detention for being a possible "terraist." And then, you never know how closely anyone has been monitoring you and your actions (hi, Agent Mike!) and whether there is any chance you could end up on a "no fly" list or some other suspicious persons' roster.

Before you board on some airlines, people are sometimes taken "randomly" aside and given a second going over. I was coming through the security point and they just "had" to look at my laptop more closely. I didn't mind--there aren't any bombs hidden in it, but it does get tedious when you have to clear through so many of these things in order to board a plane.

I remember at the beginning of 2002 when the government kept telling us that if we didn't travel and enjoy our activities anymore, the terrorists "would have won" regardless. Now, after four and a half years since 9/11, it all has as much a hollow ring as "Just Say NO" did when it was uttered by pukes what seems like ages ago. Some things can not be changed by such a simplistic attitude or approach. It's just not possible. But then again, repukes are just simplistic, anyhow.

because the Disney people fancy themselves a target of international terrorism. Well, they may be targets, but you can bet the rent that the terrorists will be home grown homophobes.

I didn't notice anything on the way out because I was still sick as a dog from pneumonia. On the way back, I did notice all the TSA crap in Orlando. It was a great relief to get back to NM. The airport here shares a runway with the air base, so I saw plenty of people in military gear. However, I didn't see the grim paranoia I saw back east. Our airport is more into restaurants featuring the local cuisine (which is very good) and shops selling crafts and souvenirs, altogether a much nicer place than the fast food, chain store, and security hype I'd left behind.

I'm sad that the paranoia infected Logan, although they were a little on the loose as a goose side the last time I went through there. The next time you go there, spend time in the city. It should be quite different.

And no, I don't want to fly, either. I think I might go by rail next time.

born and bred in Boston, happily so! But I consider myself bi-coastal after 15 years in L.A. It always seemed funny to me that people said the left coast was more "laid-back" and easy going, and instead, I found it highly politically bent (business wise, and with backstabbing and other office politics) and not as congenial as I always imagined. It took awhile to get back into the groove of Massachusetts when I came back.