sarah eve kelly

Yesterday the news broke that Canadian science fiction author Peter Watts was detained by US Customs and ultimately arrested for assaulting a federal officer. If you feel the outrage that I feel, donate to his legal defense fund.

My recent stories are neither as serious nor as dire as Peter Watts’s, but given I’ve just returned to the UK (anyone who knows me will be staggered to know that I woke of my own accord at 6:20 and did not, in fact, stay up all night to be posting this early) and they are fresh in my mind, here goes:

Heathrow Airport, Terminal Three, London: Security, 24 November 2009

INT - DAY

Security Officer: Ma’am? Ma’am?
Sarah (small voice): Yes?
Security Officer: Can you provide a boarding card for this young lady?
Sarah (observing that SO is holding up Katrina, the teddy bear she’s had since she was five years old): …
Security Officer: Ma’am?

Sarah (thinking): Security officers don’t make jokes. You mustn’t make jokes to security officers.

Sarah: Please tell me you’re not serious?
Security officer: Wha-at? She’s a good-looking bear, ma’am. You can’t take a joke? Yeah. Cute bear. (Throws Katrina into the X-ray machine)

Calgary International Airport, Calgary: Security, 24 November 2009

INT - NIGHT

Security officer #1: Any liquids, gels, or aerosols, ma’am?
Sarah (distracted, pulling out laptop): Not that I know of…
Security officer #1 (holding up 200ml bottle of Superdrug-purchased astringent): What’s this, ma’am?
Sarah: Oh, thaaaaaaat. Right. I’ll get a bag for it.
Security officer #1: I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate this, ma’am.
Sarah (observing quarter-inch of liquid at bottom of bottle): Aw, come on! There’s hardly anything left in it.
Security officer #1: We have to go by the number specified on the bottle, ma’am.
Sarah: Look at my teddy bear! Isn’ she cute? Her name is Katrina. She doesn’t have a boarding card.
Security officer #1: Sorry, ma’am. I’m going to have to take this. It may contain dangerous materials. (Throws astringent bottle over shoulder)

On the other side of the X-ray machine…

Security officer #2: Mind if I have a look through your bag, ma’am?
Sarah: What if I say no?
Security officer #2 (opening backpack): Ha-ha.
Sarah: (maintaining studied silence)
Security officer #2 (holding up newly-purchased Dove aerosol anti-perspirant): Ah, deodorant.
Sarah: Right, that.
Security officer #2: I’m gonna have to take this from you, ma’am.
Sarah: The seal’s still on it! I’m only flying two hundred kilometres!
Security officer #2 (removing anti-perspirant): Sorry, ma’am.
Sarah: Jeez, man, why’d you have to go and do that?
Security officer #2 (leaning forward, whispering): Because we’re idiots, ma’am. I’m super sorry.

NB: Finding yourself without deodorant is a touchy thing.

Vancouver International Airport: Security, 2 December 2009

INT - DAY

Security officer: We’re going to have to search you, ma’am.
Sarah (assuming the position): Right.
Security officer: Arms down, ma’am!
Security officer: (prodding Sarah’s arms and legs) OK, now arms up.
Security officer: I’m going to touch your waist now, is that OK?
Sarah: What if I say no, ha-ha?
Security officer: (pulling waistband of Sarah’s pants and feeling around) We can do this in private if you prefer.
Sarah: No thank you.
Security officer: Please turn around now. Arms up.
Security officer (feeling all the same spots with Sarah now pointed at the gawking populace): Arms down, please. Feet further apart, please. (Feeling the insides of Sarah’s thighs)
Sarah (thinking): My mother told me not to let people do this to me.
Security officer: Please lean against the conveyor belt, ma’am, and hold your right foot behind you with your right hand.
Sarah: (feeling pleased that she had the foresight to wear yoga pants today)
Security officer: Now lean forward.
Sarah: (feeling hand plucking at her underwire and roving up) Steady now!
Security officer: Sorry, ma’am.
Sarah: You ask permission to feel my waist, but not those?
Security officer: Left foot now, ma’am. (Feeling inside Sarah’s shoe)
Sarah: (now very late for her flight, feeling devirginated, about to say something rude)
Security officer (disappointed): Thank you, ma’am. That will be all.
Sarah: (grabs bag and runs, no doubt looking very guilty)

Edmonton International Airport: Security, 10 December 2009

INT - NIGHT

Sarah: Look, all my liquids, gels, and aerosols in a bag! Even my lighter. All there, in the bag.
Security officer #1: Thanks very much, ma’am. Move along.
Sarah: (walking through metal detector, smug)
Security officer #2: Is this your bag, ma’am?
Sarah: Yes…
Security officer #2: We’re going to have to run this again, ma’am.
Sarah: (clutching Katrina)
Security officer #2: Seems you forgot some of your liquids, ma’am. We’re going to have to do a manual search through your bag.
Sarah (reaching for backpack): I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if there’s anything, it’ll be in the cosmetic bag right in here…
Security officer #2 (bodyblocking): DON’T touch the bag, please, ma’am.
Sarah: (throwing caution to the wind and very visibly rolling her eyes)
Security officer #2 (empties backpack)
Security officer #2 (hands over tube of mascara)
Security officer #2 (hands over second, empty tube of mascara)
Security officer #2 (hands over one, two tubes of lipstick)
Security officer #2 (hands over lavender roll-on headache remedy half the size of pinky finger)
Sarah (stuffing items into airport-issued plastic bag) That stuff totally doesn’t even work.
Security officer #2: Careful with that, ma’am. The bag has to be able to close.
Sarah (dumping out contents of plastic bag and rearranging): These have never been considered liquids before.
Security officer #2 (swelling chest): They’ve always been considered gels, ma’am.
Security officer #2 (ramming items back into backpack)
Sarah (watching): If I’m now allowed to touch my own things, I’ll repack that myself, please. I like to have my things in a certain order.
Sarah (running to gate with backpack that will no longer close, Katrina in tow)

Calgary International Airport: Security, 10 December 2009

Security officer: Hey, weren’t you here like two weeks ago? Cute bear! Love it.

For the postscript, find Sarah sitting in a seat of her own choosing aboard a Boeing 333 aircraft destined for London Heathrow from Calgary (flight times 6:20pm MST-10:10 am GMT). File the following under ONLY IN CANADA. Sarah hears the following from the flight deck while the plane is still grounded (bearing in mind that everything, once said, was repeated in French, after the fine Canadian fashion):

6:15: We’ll be pushing back in about five minutes here. Flight attendants please prepare for departure and crosscheck.

6:20: This is your first officer speaking. We have to de-ice the plane. This will take about fifteen minutes.

6:30: Many apologies from the flight deck. The de-icing equipment has been taken by a flight bound for Frankfurt. We’ll be pushing back in about twenty minutes.

7:10: Pushing back. Flight attendants, please prepare for departure and crosscheck.

7:35: This is your first officer speaking. There has been a medical emergency to the rear of the aircraft. We’ll have to return to the gate to evacuate the passenger. Flight attendants, please prepare for arrival and crosscheck.

8:00: Please be patient and remain in your seats while the medical team removes the passenger from the rear of the aircraft. We’ll be taxiing out as soon as she’s off the plane. Flight attendants, please prepare for departure and crosscheck.

8:30: This is your first officer speaking. We’ve been informed that there are three pieces of luggage that Heathrow Airport will not accept because they contain dangerous materials. We have to return to the gate to remove the luggage in question. Flight attendants, please prepare for arrival and crosscheck.

8:55: This is your first officer speaking from the flight deck, and I have some pretty silly, pretty good news. Turns out the luggage Heathrow wouldn’t accept never actually made it on to the plane, so we’ll be taxiing out to the runway immediately. Please ensure all hand luggage is properly stowed. Flight attendants, please prepare for departure and crosscheck.

Ten minutes later, against all odds, the Little Boeing That Could actually made it into the air. The flight landed in London at 2:00pm GMT, your narrator had hauled her ass up about eight flights of stairs with two suitcases, a backpack, and Katrina in tow by 4:00, and, safely deposited home, has literally lived to tell the tale.

The visit was worth it, the people were worth it, but by golly I never want to fly again. Please donate whatever you can to Peter Watts’s cause. My stories were irritating when they were happening but funny in the retelling; his never will be.

Till next time, if God wills it, &c &c.

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