The paper money in my pocket set off whatever warning alarms are set off by these things. We were going through the security check at JFK prior to our flight to Paris on the night of May 15th. I was with my 31- year- old son. For those of you who don’t know me, I am a 70- year- old white guy, “bare-headed” and with a well-trimmed white beard. I dress rather conservatively and prior to removing my scarf and jacket for the scan, I was dressed for springtime in Paris. It had never been the case, as far as I remembered, that when told to remove everything from your pockets that included paper money. I went through the kind of scanner that has you raise your hands over your head. On the other side, a short, squat youngish man in TSA uniform took me by my shirtfront and moved me to the side of the scanner, where he used his wand on me and then told me to remove whatever was in my pockets. While I was removing the dollar bills, his supervisor, in civilian clothes, approached him and gave him a short talking-to, I think about the way he touched and, essentially, pushed me to the side. This TSA officer then explained that he was going to do a manual body check on me and that it would involve his touching me on both the front and the rear. I asked why that was necessary and why I could not simply go back through the scanner without the money in my pocket. I was told that that was not allowed and the manual search was necessary. I agreed to the search. He then proceeded to move his rubber-gloved hands over my crotch, across my buttocks and inside the waistband of my undershorts. He did this twice.
I glared but said nothing until it was over and I could approach the supervisor. I gave him a short piece of my mind and then got my things and went on with my life. I didn’t make the kind of fuss I wanted to make for two reasons—missing the flight and getting my son involved. Had I put up the kind of fuss I believe I was entitled to it might have cost me hours of time and possibly being kept from getting on my flight. I couldn’t chance that. And I couldn’t let my son see how upsetting it was for me. It was upsetting for him watching it but if I exploded, he would have exploded more and that could have led to some serious trouble. I kept my feelings, for the most part, to myself.
I didn’t take down names. I didn’t take any IPhone pictures. I don’t think anything can or would be done to make amends in any way. I don’t think either the TSA officer or his supervisor would suffer any consequences for their behavior. In short, I don’t think we have any power in these circumstances. What I got out of the experience was a small dose of what other people experience a great deal more of the time. I felt, literally, what it was like to be groped. Not something I have ever experienced before. I got just the smallest taste of what it’s like to be physically humiliated, to be touched in places you don’t want to be touched by someone you don’t want touching you. It’s a good piece of information to have. I just wish there was a way of learning it without experiencing it.