[IP] laptop scanned at Customs [priv]
------ Forwarded Message
From: Declan McCullagh <declan@xxxxxxxx>
Date: Wed, 20 Apr 2005 23:03:54 -0400
To: <politech@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Subject: [Politech] Update on Alabama activist hassled by Feds; laptop
scanned at Customs [priv]
Much of this is in the realm of personal diary-writing and not that
Politech-relevant. Except for this worrying paragraph:
"I have taken my computer through customs many times and I have never
had it seized. But I¹ll be damned if G.I. Jackboot didn¹t walk into
another room with my computer. I couldn¹t see what he was doing. I
suppose it is possible that US Customs now has a copy of my hard drive.
All of my stuff is password protected so perhaps that kept him from
accessing anything other than the logon screen. Or perhaps there is now
a bug in it that sends them a copy of everything I do."
So be sure to:
1. Encrypt your files, and preferably entire hard drive volumes, using
PGPdisk or OS X's FileVault. Might as well switch to a Mac or some
non-Windows operating system while you're at it.
2. Seriously, about the Mac thing. Police organizations are far more
proficient with Windows.
3. Password-protect your computer, including a boot password.
4. Ideally find some way to verify that your computer hasn't been
tampered with. You could boot off a known-safe CD when you get home, for
instance, and compare current file hashes with previous hashes saved to
a CD.
-Declan
-------- Original Message --------
Subject: Crossing Borders: The Stark Differences between the US and
Canada (fwd)
Date: Wed, 20 Apr 2005 19:01:08 -0400
From: Tim Meehan <tim_meehan@xxxxxxxxxxxx>
To: declan@xxxxxxxx
Declan:
Loretta Nall
http://www.politechbot.com/2005/03/30/fbi-reportedly-visits/
who is running on the Libertarian ticket for Governor of Alabama
(http://www.lp.org/action/pagetools.php?function=print&page=%2Flpnews%2F0505
%2Falabama-marijuana.html),
has been hassled again -- this time by ICE coming back from a
marijuana conference on the Canadian Side of Niagara Falls (See
http://www.highway420.ca for more info).
-Tim
http://usmjparty.blogspot.com/2005/04/crossing-borders-stark-differences.htm
l
In June of 2004 I was invited to attend and speak at the HWY 420
Cannabis Conference to take place in Niagara Falls, Canada on April 16,
2005. I was able to attend and the following is a detailed recounting of
my trip.
I arrived in Buffalo New York on Friday afternoon and caught a
pre-arranged cab to the Canadian border. I am always afraid that
Canadian Customs will delay me for an extended period of time and I
usually try and steel my nerves for this unavoidable consequence of
traveling as head of the US Marijuana Party.
This was the first time I had ever crossed the Canadian border by land.
I wasn¹t sure what to expect. The cab driver handed my passport to the
border guard and was asked to roll down the back window so the guard
could see me.
The guard asked all of the standard questions.
³What is your reason for visiting Canada?²
Since I am always honest with Customs I told him that I was there to
speak at a conference.
³Where will you be speaking?²
³At the Niagara Falls park.²
³What will you be speaking about?²
³American influence on Canadian drug policy.²
³Are you for or against American influence on our policy?²
³I am against it.²
³Do you have any pot on you?²
³No. Americans come to smoke your pot so we don¹t bring our own.²
³What will I find if I run your passport?²
³You¹ll find that I am leader of the US Marijuana Party and that I cross
the US/Canadian border often.²
To the cab driver, ³Where are you taking her?²
Cabbie: ³The Holiday Inn on Murray.²
The guard then looked at me and with a mischievous grin said
³Welcome to Canada?and bring me something back when you come through on
Sunday.²
Welcome to Canada indeed.
It is nice to be welcomed with open arms to another country.
Never Eat Thai Food after flying.
On the way to the hotel my cab driver, having heard the conversation
with the Border Guard, expressed an interest in learning more about my
work. So I filled him in as much as I could in the few minutes we had
left. When we arrived at the hotel I had expected to meet my ride who
had the cab fare, pay the cabbie and embark on my weekend adventure.
However, my ride got a little lost and hadn¹t made it to our designated
meeting point yet. I called the cell number I was given but got voicemail.
I didn¹t have my credit card on me so I couldn¹t pay the cabbie.
He decides that he will wait with me for a little bit and we continue
our conversation about pot and drug policy.
³So you guys are going to be in the Queens Park tomorrow having a
conference and smoking pot²? The cabbie asks.
³Yes. It starts at 10 a.m. at the library and later on we will march
down to the park for a rally. If you are off tomorrow or have some time
after work why don¹t you join us?²
³I¹ll try. I¹d love to be there. Here is my cell phone number. Please
call me tomorrow and before you leave.²
About this time my ride calls to tell me that it will be another 30-45
minutes before they arrive. I relay this message to the cabbie.
³That¹s no problem but I can¹t wait with you that long. Let me see what
I can do about the cab fare.²
He gets on the radio with his boss and tells him the situation. Near the
end of this conversation he says to his boss, ³She is head of the US
Marijuana Party so I know she is good for it. She¹s legit.²
Apparently that was good enough for his boss because he came back and
said, ³No worries it is all taken care of.²
³Wow. You don¹t know me at all and you are willing to drive away without
your money?²
³Well it isn¹t everyday that the president of the US Marijuana Party
rides in your cab. I¹ve only been driving for two months but I never
thought I would meet anyone famous. You enjoy your weekend in Canada and
call me tomorrow.²
Man, I love Canadians.
I sat outside in the chilly Canadian air for a few minutes then decided
to go in the bar and have a drink to warm me up, take the edge off my
day and make the wait for my ride go faster. I wound up having two Long
Island Iced Tea¹s and by the time my ride arrived I was feeling no pain.
After exchanging suffocating neck hugs and some unadulterated joy at
finally meeting each other face to face I load my things into the van
and we strike out for London, Ontario for the night.
The ride was about two and a half hours long for which my host profusely
apologized. Apologies were not necessary. I was extremely glad to have
made it across the border unmolested and to have found a cab driver that
let me off without paying $60 because of who I am.
In my world that is called ³batting a thousand.²
We talked and laughed so much on the ride to London that my vocal cords
became sore and I began to sound raspy. My host called home to check in
with the family and was informed that the cupboards were bare and we
should eat before we got home.
³Do you like Thai food?² my host asked me.
³That sounds good. It will be light and maybe it won¹t knock me out.²
We proceed to a Thai restaurant where I ordered some things of which I
had a basic understanding of the ingredients but could not pronounce. I
had not eaten all day and since we had shared some goodie on the road I
had a serious case of the munchies.
When my food arrived I devoured it. The spring roll, filled with cabbage
and other goodies was divine as were the fried wanton noodles with
sausage balls and peppers inside. The cashew chicken was superb.
Feeling full and satisfied we depart on the final leg of our journey. So
far, it had been a stellar day for me and I was looking forward to
meeting the rest of my host/sponsor family, settling in for the evening
and preparing my speech notes for the next day. Life was good.
All of a sudden a nuclear bomb went off in my lower intestine.
³Ruuuumble² ³gurgle gurgle² ³bubble²
I involuntarily clenched all of the muscles in my entire body.
The pain was akin to that of giving birth to a 20-pound breech baby
unaided by modern pain medications.
I broke out in a cold sweat and cradled my swelling, rebelling gut with
my arm. A wave of nausea washed over me. I tried not to double over
because I didn¹t want my host to be aware of the bowel mutiny going on
right next to her.
I¹m thinking ³Dear sweet Jesus that hurts???. Owwwwwwwww² and
immediately after ³God I hope she didn¹t hear that racket.²
I closed my eyes and hoped desperately that my host wouldn¹t look over
and see the brow-furrowed, jaw-clenched, grimace I was suddenly sporting.
How exactly would I explain that I suddenly felt like the character
Dexter from ³Dexter¹s Lab² in the ³Critical Gas² episode where he had a
large bean burrito for lunch and suffered such awful gas pains that he
became convinced he was going to die and wrote out his will?
How, as a distinguished guest in a foreign country to address important
political issues, was I to explain to my host that I was either about to
puke or shit, or both, with such ferocity that it was likely to launch
me through the roof of the automobile?
Canadians and the rest of the world already think Americans are rude and
this certainly would not help repair that image.
Then, as suddenly as the mutiny began it was over.
My first emotion after the red haze of pain receded was gratitude and a
promise to myself that I would never eat Thai food again. My second was
jubilation that my embarrassing episode had apparently gone undetected
by my host and that I still had my dignity.
Whew! That was a close call.
Let this serve as a warning to you, dear reader. Air travel, alcohol and
anything containing cabbage, sausage and peppers is a highly volatile
and combustible combination.
Steer Clear!
The rest of the evening was spent in my hosts¹ lovely, warm home and
discussing politics, family life and the exciting day ahead.
HWY 420 Cannabis Conference
The day of the conference dawned bright and clear. We rose early and
after we picked up another passenger we headed back to Niagara Falls for
the festivities.
The conference room at the Library on Victoria Ave. was packed with
activists. There were two long tables loaded with high quality
literature provided by Frank Discussion, a long time drug policy reform
advocate and member of the Cannabis Culture forums.
There were also loads of hemp and pot cookies provided by ³puff mama²
and a piñata bearing the likeness of Anne McClellan.
As I looked around the room I saw many faces I recognized.
Tim Meehan, Alison Myrden, Jeff Merklinger (a.k.a. Cannabian), Sinshune,
puff mama, Matt Mernagh, James101, Gooey, Whirlwind and the Goodwin¹s,
owners of ³Up In Smoke² café, with their new baby were all in attendance.
Others that I had not met in person but who knew me began to come over
and introduce themselves. Many neck hugs were exchanged and it was
wonderful to finally put faces with names.
Travis, who traveled over 4 hours to attend, introduced himself and
asked if he could be the first Canadian to contribute to my election
campaign. I accepted his offer of a contribution. Then he told me he was
on unemployment and I felt bad about taking his $100. I almost gave it
back to him. I knew that he could probably scarcely afford that
donation. But, looking at him and that genuine smile on his face I knew
that giving me that money meant a great deal to him and that if I tried
to give it back I might offend. So I gave him a huge neck hug and
sincere thanks instead.
I am still very touched by that whole episode.
I find it is often the people who can least afford to contribute that
make the most contributions.
Thank you again Travis.
Puff Mama was the first speaker and she gave us all a very informative
and poetic presentation about the benefits of eating things made from
hemp and/or with cannabis.
I understand this was her first time speaking in public and she did a
bang up job. Thanks for the cookies Puff Mama. They helped me keep a
level head when going through Fortress America the re-entry process.
Anthony C. Brucato , a deaf presenter and his interpreter, Dr. Gail
Rothman, both representing the Rochester Cannabis Coalition, gave a
presentation on the New York State Medical Marijuana Bill
David Malmo-Levine was called upon to draw the numbers for the raffle.
David is one of those people with the ability to make anything fun,
exciting and humorous. He called the numbers with the skill of a trained
auctioneer.
Next up was a panel discussion about medical marijuana, compassion clubs
and big pharma. The great activists on this panel covered all of the
many points on these two topics with complete accuracy. At the end the
audience was invited to ask questions of the panel. Audience
participation is an important first step in getting people involved in
activism and one that I find is often overlooked at events and conferences.
The next presenters¹ topic was a shock to me. Ian Levine from Pardons
Canada informed the audience that if they had ever been arrested,
photographed and fingerprinted by the police, regardless of whether they
were charged with anything, that they had a criminal record. He then
explained the process of getting your record removed.
This record, he informed the audience, could cause you to be denied
entry into the United States.
My first thought was why on earth would anyone who could possibly avoid
it enter the US these days?
Another raffle was held and then we took a break for lunch.
After lunch it was my turn to address the audience. Throughout the
morning it had been repeatedly announced that I was in attendance and
would be speaking. Loud, enthusiastic applause, whistles, hoots and
hollers always followed these announcements.
I love Canadians.
And apparently they are quite fond of me and as they have deemed me an
honorary Canadian, a very distinguished title, which I am most honored
to hold.
I had no prepared speech. I find I am more comfortable in some venues
speaking off the cuff and injecting more of my personality into the
discussion. My topic was American influence on Canadian drug policy and
I opened my talk with the question that occurred to me after Ian
Levine¹s presentation.
³Mr. Levine¹s presentation was very informative and useful but I have to
ask you why anyone who did not absolutely have to cross the border into
the US would do so?²
I spoke a little about how I got started in activism, but kept that part
short, as most in the room were familiar with my story. I wanted to
shake the audience up and leave no doubt in their minds about what to
expect as the US becomes more involved in Canadian drug policy. I told
them about the prison crisis in Alabama and that the largest percentage
of inmates are non-violent drug and property offenders.
I predicted that due to the continued linking of the drug war to the war
on terror that the US would soon declare Canadian pot a ³biological
weapon of mass destruction² and that pot smoking Canadians would be
declared terrorists.
I explained that the American drug war is used to destabilize entire
nations and has nothing really to do with drugs. The government couldn¹t
care less if you are high.
To illustrate this point I spoke about my visit to Colombia, South
America and how the US has raped the land and spent $98 million to send
US soldiers to guard an oil pipeline owned by a private US company. The
US justifies it¹s involvement in Colombia¹s conflict to the American
people by claiming they are fighting narco-traffickers whose only desire
is to get their children hooked on cocaine.
I warned my Canadian family that the US wants it¹s airspace for our
missile defense program and it¹s natural resources for our greedy,
spoiled citizens. But perhaps most importantly the US wants fresh-faced
Canadian boys and girls to feed to the war machine.
Declaring Canada a nation filled with narco-terrorists whose only desire
is to export biological weapons of mass destruction in the form of high
quality pot to American children would be the easiest way to get the
American people behind an imminent invasion.
I told them to be on the lookout for scapegoating and that I had already
seen it taking place. Richard Cowan once said that one problem the US
has is that Canada is too white to invade and too close to ignore. And
he was correct.
In a lot of recent Canadian news stories about marijuana grow-ops and
the black-market pot trade the blame is laid at the feet of the Hell¹s
Angels and Vietnamese gangs.
It¹s easier to demonize them than it is to demonize white people. Most
Americans would have no qualms about invading Canada on the pretense of
ridding it of those two groups. Hell we¹d think we were doing you a favor.
I stressed the importance of entering the political arena and running
for office. I have found, as have most others, that you simply cannot
trust those already in power to represent our interests. They aren¹t
going to change anything. They like it the way it is. Our only option in
both the US and Canada is to be the change we wish to see and by that I
mean form a voting block, run candidates from within and TAKE some power
from these war-mongering fools. There is no other way.
I spoke about a few other things related to what Canada will be like if
the US gets its way.
I hope I painted a clear picture and that my points were well taken.
Judging from the response I got I would say that they were.
After another panel discussion and raffle it was time to march down to
Queen Victoria Park for our 4:20 celebration and protest. Alison Myrden,
was our mistress of ceremonies for the parade so she set out toward
Clifton Hill and everyone fell into place behind.
We were provided a police escort but were not harassed by the police. In
the US organizers are often required to pay for police attendance at
events. If they are unable to do so then they are denied their first
amendment right to peacefully assemble.
Clifton Hill is the main tourist drag in Niagara Falls and it was packed
this particular afternoon. Horns were honked in support of our cause and
people cheered and voiced their agreement that marijuana should be legal.
I am quite certain we gained a large number of people on our way down
Clifton Hill to the park, as the crowd was much larger at the bottom
than at the top.
The organizers and speakers climbed a grassy knoll and once again some
of us addressed the crowd and thanked them for coming out today. At 4:20
a cloud of smoke larger than the mist coming off the falls rose high
over The Queen Victoria Park in Niagara Falls, Canada and everyone went
their separate ways in a happy daze.
Behind the Iron Curtain
After a lovely weekend of being treated like royalty and enjoying REAL
freedom in Canada it is time to return to America.
I have never had any real problems at any American entry point. They ask
me the usual questions and sometimes they search my bags. Usually I tell
them where I was and why I was there and where I am going and they let
me through without too much hassle. But today was different.
The original cab driver that took me over the border had arranged for
someone else to take me back and he told me that as long as I left by
5:15 a.m. I would be ok.
I met the cab at the pre-arranged location and we set out for the border.
The driver asked me if I thought I would have problems and I told him it
was possible but that I usually only had problems crossing into other
countries and not back into the US. I am way more afraid that I will one
day be denied exit from the US than I am of being denied entry.
It was brutally early in the morning. In the last 72 hours I had
probably managed to sleep 4 good hours. My vocal cords were totally raw.
My ears hurt from flying and those two cookies I had for breakfast and
the refreshment my hostess provided on the way to meet the cab had
kicked in full force. My eyelids felt like they were made out of lead. I
hadn¹t had any coffee.
I was in no mood or shape really to deal with what I was about to have
to deal with.
When we arrive at customs and I roll down my window and a young,
jittery, soldier dressed in a black uniform, complete with jackboots,
(hereafter to be referred to as G.I. Jackboot,) steps out and takes my
passport.
He had that ³special forces² look about him and I instantly knew this
was going to be a long morning.
³Where were you here?² he asks me
(Ok I know I am tired?but that question didn¹t make any sense.)
³What do you mean where was I here?²
³Where were you here?²
(I am now convinced that Customs Agents deliberately screw up the
wording in their questions to confuse you?thereby giving them ³probable
cause² to basically rape you upon re-entering the US.)
³Do you mean what part of Canada did I visit?²
³Yes.²
³Niagara Falls.²
³Anywhere else?²
³Yes. I also spent one night in London and one night in St. Catherine¹s.²
What were you doing in London and St. Catherine¹s?²
³Sleeping.²
³Why were you sleeping in those two towns?²
I could have been a total smart ass at this point but decided to
cooperate because I still sensed a very slim chance to escape unmolested
so I said,
³Some people that I wanted to meet live in London and so I traveled
there to meet with them and stay the night. I stayed in St. Catherine¹s
at a bed and breakfast because it is closer to the border and I have an
early flight.²
³What were you doing here?²
³Visiting friends and attending a conference.²
³What kind of conference?²
³An international forum on drug policy. My name is Loretta Nall and I am
President of the US Marijuana Party and Libertarian candidate for
Governor of Alabama in 2006. If you scan my passport you will see that I
travel a great deal into and out of Canada.
G.I. Jackboot flips through my passport and asks me
³What were you doing in Colombia?²
I almost responded?²None of your fucking business.² I could feel my
blood pressure rising and I was ever more grateful for those cookies.
³I was traveling with a human rights group from Washington DC.²
³What do you do for a living?²
³I am a full time drug policy reform advocate. I am head of the US
Marijuana Party and I am a candidate for Governor of Alabama in the 2006
election. I am a politician so I travel a great deal to speak at various
venues. I also write for a magazine and online publications such as Lew
Rockwell and I host an AM Radio talk show in Montgomery, Alabama.²
G.I. Jackboot steps inside the guard shack and scans my passport. There
is a female agent in there that we will call ³G.I. Robot² and after a
moment of intense silence G.I. Jackboot comes out of the cubicle and
looks at me like I am the biggest threat he has ever faced in his short
career as a border guard and to my utter despair I hear G.I. Robot say
³Well you know what we gotta do.²
Damn. Damn. Damn.
My stomach knots up and rolls over. This could get ugly.
I look over at G.I. Robot, smile and ask her ³What comes up on your
computer screen when you scan my passport?² ³Are you able to at least
tell me that it confirms that everything I have told you is true?²
G.I. Robot turns her head very slowly towards me, you could almost hear
the mechanical gears grinding away, and a very blank stare, almost
frighteningly blank, comes over her face. In a monotone, robotic voice
she says,
³No, I can¹t tell you anything.²
I involuntarily shiver.
God that was creepy.
What border am I crossing again?
G.I. Jackboot comes out again and orders my cab driver to
³Proceed to the platform and for me to enter Cubicle 2.
Noooooo. Not Cubicle 2.
US customs is about to rape me.
Inside cold, gray, dismal, Cubicle 2 was another female customs agent. I
went inside and was instructed to sit down and wait.
I have noticed that when customs decides to hassle you there is often a
lot of waiting involved. I am convinced that this is done in order to
shake and rattle you. Piss you off and make you appear to be nervous or
edgy so they can use it as justification to search your body cavities.
I sat very still and pretended to be bored.
I have mastered that skill and thus far have avoided being raped by a
latex-gloved, Special Forces American soldier.
I recommend mastering that technique to anyone traveling across any
American border. It might save you stitches and your dignity.
Finally Jackboot and Robot returned and the three of them grouped
together and had a discussion.
The new one approached and asked me to fill out a re-entry form for the US.
G.I. Jackboot and G.I. Robot disappeared into the back room as I
finished filling out the form.
In the space designated for me to declare how much any items I was
bringing back were worth there were numbers already printed by a computer.
I scratched them out and wrote $0.
The third customs agent, who I will refrain from nicknaming because she
was decent, looked at the form and commented on the weird numbers
printed in the $ space.
She took the form, told me to sit down and walked away.
A few minutes later she and G.I. Robot came back out and told me that
since there were weird numbers printed on the customs declaration form
that I had to fill out another one.
When that was done the female agents disappeared with both forms.
G.I. Robot reappears with the first declaration form and instructs me to
empty my pockets on the counter.
I placed my passport and some folded papers, which included my flight
itinerary, my Canadian immigration paperwork which states that I have
been arrested and convicted of misdemeanor possession of marijuana, my
drivers license, credit card, cigarettes and lighter.
³Have you ever been arrested before?²
³Yes.²
³What for?²
³For exercising my first amendment right to free speech and petitioning
my government for a redress of grievances.²
³What were you charged with?²
³Misdemeanor possession of marijuana.²
³Were you convicted?²
³Yes.²
³How much did you pay in fines?²
³I haven¹t paid anything in fines because I appealed the convictions. My
jury trial is coming up this week.²
³Have you had any run ins with law enforcement since then?²
³Well only if you count the times Customs has given me a hard time. But
no, I have not been arrested again. Don¹t you have all of this
information in about me in your computer?²
G.I. Robot proceeds to ask me the same questions about where I work and
what I do for a living. And I proceed to give her the same answers I
gave earlier. She writes them down on the first declaration form.
She then asks me,
³Do you have any websites?²
³Yes.²
³What are they?²
www.usmjparty.com and http://usmjparty.blogspot.com
³Any others?²
³You know what?² I said to her?²Google me.² ³You¹ll find a few thousand
pages related to who I am and the work I do.²
³A few thousand?²
³Yes. A few thousand. All you ever wanted to know.²
G.I. Jackboot appears from the back and says,
³So you crossed in at a different point when you went into Canada?²
³I flew into Buffalo and went across by taxi.²
³Why didn¹t your friend from London pick you up and bring you back to
the airport?²
(At this point I lost all my patience with this nonsense. My flight
leaves at 6:49 a.m. and it is fast approaching 6:15 and the airport is
still a good fifteen minutes away and they haven¹t even searched my bags
yet.)
³Because my friend wanted to avoid the anal probe I suppose. You must
admit that border crossing isn¹t much fun these days.²
³What is your friends name and address in London?²
:²I am not going to tell you my friends name and address in London. My
friend is a Canadian citizen and therefore has nothing to do with me
getting back across the US border.²
³Where is your luggage?²
³In the trunk of the cab.²
G.I. Jackboot tells the cabbie to go and pull the car into the garage
bay. Jackboot waits for the cabbie to open the trunk and then removes my
bags.
In my extensive travels and dealings with customs I have learned to pack
as light as I possibly can. This cuts down on the time they take to
search your belongings. I only had my backpack and one small suitcase.
G.I. Jackboot places my bags on the metal table and he and G.I. Robot
proceed to paw through them.
In my clothing bag I had my US Marijuana Party shirt, my ³Nall for
Governor² shirt and a couple of pot related shirts I had been given at
the conference in Canada. G.I. Robot unfolded all of them and had a good
long gander.
While she was gawking at my shirts G.I. Jackboot opens my fanny pack and
discovers my US Marijuana Party business cards. And with what appeared
to be a genuine expression of awe he looks over at G.I. Robot and
exclaims in a heavy New York accent, ³She even has real business cods²
to which Robot replies ³And she¹s got T-shirts too.²
They both turn around and stare at me.
Jackboot says, ³So you¹re serious about the governor thing?²
I got so exasperated that I was not sure whether to laugh, cry or scream
like a maniac.
³Do people often come through Customs and tell you they are head of a
political organization that is dedicated to changing drug laws in the US
and that they are running for governor of their respective state? Is
that a generic, inconspicuous, low-key story that has become popular at
the border?
Yes. I am serious.
I have been completely honest with you about who I am and what I do.
Having to spend hours in these interrogation rooms being asked the same
questions over and over, having my belongings rifled through and
wondering whether or not this will end in a body cavity search is not my
idea of a fun day.²
That earned me a very mean look from both G.I.¹s but at this point I no
longer gave a shit. I knew I had nothing on me and that I had already
missed my flight so I had nothing but time to lose.
Apparently I had left an old ticket stub in one of my bags from a
previous flight to DC. G.I. Robot discovers it and asks me ³So, when
were you in Washington D.C.?²
I ponder what this question could have to do with me getting back across
the border but can¹t make a connection.
³I was in D.C. in January. I travel there often.²
³Really?²
³Yes. Really.²
G.I. Robot finishes her search of my bag and proceeds to get into the
back of the taxi with a wand device. She digs around in the seats, in
the floorboard, in the ashtrays?then she moves to the trunk of the car
with her wand and then to the front. Satisfied that I haven¹t corrupted
the cabbie with a large amount of drug money in exchange for letting me
smuggle Canadian bubble hash back into the US disguised as part of his
cab she ends her search for the elusive terrorist weed.
Meanwhile, G.I. Jackboot has discovered my digital camera and decides to
have a look at my photographs. He flips through all of them making me
wish I had something vulgar and offensive on there just to shock him.
Alas, it was only pictures of the conference.
He puts the camera back into my bag.
Then he removes my laptop computer.
I have taken my computer through customs many times and I have never had
it seized. But I¹ll be damned if G.I. Jackboot didn¹t walk into another
room with my computer. I couldn¹t see what he was doing. I suppose it is
possible that US Customs now has a copy of my hard drive. All of my
stuff is password protected so perhaps that kept him from accessing
anything other than the logon screen. Or perhaps there is now a bug in
it that sends them a copy of everything I do.
I am more pissed about the computer being violated than anything else. I
was honest with them and told them everything. I cooperated with them
until it became apparent that no matter what I did they were going to
give me a hard time and make me miss my flight. Nothing illegal had been
found in my possession. All of my documents were in order. I should have
been allowed to leave at that point without further intrusion into my
privacy.
I do not believe that they had the right to take my personal computer
out of my sight for one second. I think being a declared political
candidate grants me more protection than the private citizen in that regard.
If they thought that my computer contained explosives or some other such
hazard then they would have scanned it as I doubt G.I. Jackboot was
trained in disarming potential explosives hidden in laptop computers. I
am not even sure such a thing exists.
If they wanted to look inside it for pot then they should have opened it
in front of me as has been done on a couple of occasions before.
But they took it out of my sight. There was no other reason to do so
than to tamper with it. Turn it on and have a look.
BASTARDS!
G.I. Jackboot was gone for about 15 minutes with my machine. He returned
it to my bag and I was told to have a nice flight.
³I have already missed my flight as I am sure you are aware. Do you know
what I am supposed to do now? I have never been delayed long enough to
miss a flight before.²
³Talk to the airline.²
I turn and get into the taxi before I say or do something that gets me
beaten like an Abu Ghraib detainee and landed in a secret cell in
Guantanamo never to be heard from again.
As we ride away I think
³I AM AN AMERICAN CITIZEN AND I WILL NOT BE TREATED THIS WAY BY MY OWN
COUNTRY.²
I¹ve talked to an attorney about this matter and if it can be pursued in
the court of law then y¹all are about to see one hell of a battle
between myself and the US government.
Despite all of the inconvenience it has caused me, I continue to be
somewhat tickled that I, a harmless Alabama housewife, have been
bestowed ³red alert² status by the All Powerful United States Government
simply for disagreeing with a current domestic policy.
It validates my work in a way that nothing else can.
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