Struggler's Blues...

Ya know, I am not a terrorist -REPEAT - I am not a terrorist, but this past weekend, when I was traveling between Washington's (I live in Washington, Not DC, Vancouver, Not BC.) I could see what why they are targets for terrorism.

- Apparently, no one in the airline industry can tell time. Not one of them. Thus, your plane is late and your layovers last 3x's longer than you are told they would be.

- They lose your luggage.

- Airport Security treats it's passengers like black angus going to slaughter.

Ok, they did not lose my luggage, but only because I had one carry on and my lifetop, I mean my laptop, safely with me at all times.
The Mister does not fancy flying. He prefers to drive...no matter how far. So, it's been a while since we've flown anywhere. The "Security Commandant" let us through the mile-and-a-half long line and demanded we remove all shoes, jewelry, clear liquids, etc...
I was amused. The signs around the area reassuringly stated that if we wanted a "Private" room during a search, we only needed to request one. What, no dinner or foreplay?
There were other signs that warned against even joking about security, (Sir, our nation is going through a very difficult time). No sense of humor, they have.
I removed my shoes, and we disassembled our carry-on bag to remove our toothpaste, perfume, watches, wedding rings., etc. We threw our belongings into their plastic bins and off they went through the x-ray machines. That wasn't so bad...
NOT SO FAST.
A female officer walked toward me with my laptop bag, frowning disapprovingly.
"Ma'am - I am going to have to look at your laptop."
I followed her over to a "private" space, trying to put my shoes back on and walk at the same time. She began going through my case to retrieve the machine.
"And just what are you looking for?" I queried. "verification that it is, indeed a laptop, and not some incendiary device?"
"Yes Ma'am"
We'll put a turban on my head and call me Bin Laden. Satisfied that I and my laptop were no longer a threat to national security, I was ushered through. (Oh, yea - the little bottle of hand -sanitizer I keep in my purse almost triggered an international incident. Silly me.)
The first flight went well, but when we landed in Chicago, our 2 hour layover turned into 5. But, being the resourceful people that I and The Mister are, we scored some wine and pre-paid Wi-Fi. and we got tipsy - I mean, we endured the hardship like good Americans.
The flight from Chicago to Washington DC albeit late, was uneventful.
We hit Washington the next day and positioned ourselves with protest signs and attitudes in front of the Capitol Building. (It was a protest rally against Israeli occupation in Palestine.) I am not a Jew, or Palestinian - hell, I am not even a nice person, but this cause has come to mean something to me. I heard a story about a women who was in labor, trying to get past the Israeli guards to get to the hospital. They refused to let her through. She and her husband went home, hoping to come back a little later and get a different guard, or at least one that wasn't such a dick. When they returned, they were again turned away. They begged, as she was getting very close to delivering, but they continued hasseling her. She went into labor, close to the guard, and the baby died. There are stories about how, if the guards want to fuck with you, they can make you wait in lines for 4 hours or so - the stories just get better.
But, in a nutshell, that is why the Mister and I packed our asses all the way across the US to meet people from all over the world who oppose this oppresion.
The rally was cool - the speakers were energizing.
Then it came time to march.
We marched, yelling all kinds of protest chants that only sound good when you have thousands of other people to yell with. (Viva! Viva! Palestina! - yell that in traffic.)
Anyway - you can't have a protest without pissing somebody off, so a smallish Pro-Israeli contingent showed up, lining up on the sidewalk as we walked by -shouting thought-provoking comments such as, "Nazi's!" "Terrorists!" One young man, with his head shaved to the skin, followed us, screaming, jumping on anything that would place him above us, cars, streetlamps.
he was flat out crazy, though.
I didn't know George Bush had a son.
Tons of police were there at the rally in flak jackets, standing between us and the protesting protesters. It was intense, and I loved every minute of it.
We marched to the Washington Monument and then to the WhiteHouse. I was very proud that, as we walked and yelled, many bystadards got off the curbs and started walking with us.
It was amazing. A wonderful feeling. A true "American Experience."
There is something about Washington DC - albeit a dirty and kinda smelly place - that demands respect. You feel the history in the limestone and granite - one that is neither Democratic or Republican. You feel pride in the words of the Declaration of Independence.
You feel like there may be hope for this country yet.