Friday, January 29, 2010

Security vs Security. VANOC fuck ups. Vol 1

So, I'm flying home. No big deal. It's just that the "company" picked the wrong date to return me to the world. 29 January, 2010. Olympic security kicks into full court press.

"Picture ID please, Sir."

"Don't have any which I haven't paid for. I'm a Canadian, in Canada flying between Canadian points. If you want to see my picture look up the "outstanding warrants" poster or pay to see that which I personally paid for."

"We can deny you passage."

"No. You can't. Read the existing legislation."

"I'm just doing my job."

Goddamnit! I weakened. She was telling the truth and I buckled. I gave her the weakest of my photo IDs... and I shouldn't have done it.

"Where do you live?"

"It's on the card."

"We need your permission to transmit this information to the RCMP as a part of the Olympic security system."

"Really?! Then I want an assurance that the RCMP will provide a detailed report as to where and when this information was used and a certificate that it was destroyed when it served no purpose outside the duration of my flight."


Once again I gave in to the desire to simply "get home".

"Just give me the fucking boarding pass."

Security screening was a whole new experience... at least in Canada.

The normal over-the-top "we're protecting you" x-raying of everything you're carrying evolved into "I am going to do a secondary search of your baggage.... Sir." The "sir" was added to present an illusion that this was still Canada.

The security person, someone to whom I wouldn't have given a graduation certificate of an Ordinary Seaman Under Training, proceeded to open everything. Everything. Including documents.

When that person got to the PROTECTED B documents, I protested.

"You have no authority nor the requisite clearance to look though those. Read the markings."

"We're allowed to look at everything," she demanded.

"Not without the permission of the person that classified them, you're not," I told her.

By the time I had finished protesting, she had ripped open the sealed envelopes and had read the names, dates of birth, professional IDs and home addresses of persons who believed their personal information was secure in my custody.

She had made sure my paper was not a bomb. She had also violated Canadian law.

When I asked for her ID (so as to report the breach of PROTECTED B documents) she refused to provide it. Adamantly.

I obeyed the law. The security system flaunted it.

Welcome to the Olympics. 2010 Vancouver. 1936 Berlin.

Same rules. Same outcome.

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