My Flight to San Antonio

A smooth start from Lambert. Good and kind security personnel For I do not need to be naked to pass through the tightly security. Take off is not my concern. It is the cloudy sky, the fear and puzzlement of the passengers. Suspicion reigns in the minds of all. For no one seems to trust anyone. Bumpy rides in the stormy winds equal terrorists Frightened faces, screaming children and praying souls are what you See. I am disturbed, worried and scared to death. Thank God abrupt landing is not called for. Houston is no good either. Change to another plane fails. One hour delay we are told. For the plane’s mechanical problems. On line I stand bored, anxious and fearful. Thinking poetry is my consolation. Continental Airline’s motto: CONTINENTAL, HARD WORK, FLY RIGHT attracts my eye. Pen and notebook I take, for something to digest on. But the security man is watching . On line he singles me out, to perform a special check, for a potential terrorist he thinks. So loud I laugh as his checks he performs. My bold and sarcastic laugh suggests my innocence. Off he lets me go, but more fear he has instilled. An ordeal I go through, a psychological torture I undergo, adding an injury to an insult. How I yearn to be in San Antonio! For peace of mind I desperately need. Good hotel room and my good confreres I get. But the ordeal is not over. The terrifying evening TV news leave me dumb and speeches. How on earth the small planes’ crashes in Colorado, Florida and California again? This is incredible, obnoxious, and wearying. And what does it mean? More fear, panic, and terror? Sounds more dangerous than the cowardly terrorists who strike and vanish. Written January 13th, 2002 © on Jan 13 2002 11:48 AM PST   18 • 0 • 10