Warning! It's Only An Apple

This instrument may be dangerous to your flight.

I wonder how Eve felt holding the Apple for the first time. Just a thought.

     As many of you know, I’ve had my share of restraints when boarding flights (see False Advertising). Do I think that I am on some sort of maybe-do-not-let-this-person-fly list? Of course not. Why would I be? After all, I am a peace-loving individual who does her level best to bring joy to the world. Okay, I’m overstating my peacemaking skills a bit, but I really do try. I mean, more than anything I want to help usher in a new paradigm of peacemaking.

     Hence, this wacky peacemaking blog.

     But, back to the warning. I flew to Jordan two weeks ago. I had no issues until I arrived in London. Warning! Warning! They wanted to check my bag. Of course. No problem. I’m getting to be a pro at this. I do my best to look innocent and harmless (hard to do when you are 6’3” tall, but I do have a disarming smile). The London stopover was wrought with problems with just about everything I had in my bag. Not having my lotions in a plastic bag—two items, guys! Less then two ounces, but alas, they took everything—and I do mean everything—out of my bag and I barely had enough time to get it all back in before my flight took off. Needless to say it wasn’t very organized—anymore!

     Then I arrived in Jordan and what did they want to know? “Please open your bag, Miss.” Again, I’m a pro. No problemo. They look at my silver ball (called a Blue Ball microphone). It’s in its case at the time and once they see the branding (everybody knows Apple^TM), they let me go. It helped to explain all the other gadgets in my case, too. I do broadcasting and I carry lots of wires with me in addition to regular mics and recorders. By the way, I’m getting me a case so that I can label everything and put everything in its proper place. Maybe, just maybe it will help me through national and international flights.

     Then I arrived in Frankfurt.

     I had come from Petra, Wadi Rum and the Red Sea (great places—soon to be another blog report) and hurriedly stuffed things in my bags. This time, I didn’t have time (nor space) to put my ball away, so I kept my precious mic—actually one of the best microphones in the world—in the bag with my Apple^TM computer (also precious to me) so that it would not be damaged and viola! I’m instant suspect.

The young security woman asked me to open my bag and then pointed to the round object. I smiled. She did not.

     What is this, Miss?

     It’s a mic, I say.

     I pick it up. I start to hand it to her and she recoils.

     Are you crazy? she seems to say without words.

     I know it’s kinda weird, I say. Really, it’s just a microphone.

     She accepts the ball, handling it gingerly while also a little mesmerized by it, turning it over and over again. I imagine she’s trying to figure it out. Surrounding me are those who are also curious, though standing back. Have these people not see this before? I can’t believe it.

     This takes no more than a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity as the other security people took an interest. I guess she realizes we’ve drawn a small crowd and promptly asks me to follow her into a room. Is this the place where they truss up suspects? It has a desk, which a man stands behind. She pushes the ball toward him. What is it? he asks. I can’t believe it. No one knows what this is? So I asked if I could record them. They were not amused.

     By the way, I have no idea what that little white card with the strange light brown squares on it is, but I’ve had a similar card wipe the inside of my cases, run around certain objects and such so I’m thinking it is some kind of explosive device detector. Quickly, I imagine, this card (or several—he had several in his hand) found nothing to be afraid of. That was it.

     You can go. Nothing else? I wanted—what I don’t know—but I wanted some acknowledgment, like … It’s the sad time for the world, ma’am, but what can I do? Thank you for your patience, however.

     Anything.

     Instead I get. Stop. Go. Git!

     So, back to this peacemaking thing. Could we find a way, people, to end this cloud of terrorism that overshadows the moments that could be broken up with a little levity and God forbid (or not) that we laugh at some of our fears and realize this world ain’t as crazy as we would make it out to be. After all, it’s only an Apple^TM. How harmful could it be?

     Oh, I forgot. Maybe Apple^TM is the forbidden fruit after all.