Backseat Driver: August 2006 Good News, I'm a Terrorist! Written by John O'Neil Photos by John O'Neil
As a magazine editor one of my main duties is to go out and fly to the best shows, see the best shops and photograph the best trucks. Don't even start to think that I'm bitching about traveling all across the United States with my camera; I just have one small issue. It started last year sometime, I think it may have been when I was flying to the Sittin' Pretti show up in Seattle out of LAX airport.
Generally, when I check in at the airport, I go straight to the electronic kiosks that promise half-the-time and half-the-headache. This time, though, while going through my normal routine, I was prompted that my self-serve check-in couldn't be processed and that I should see a representative of whatever airline I was checking into.
Obviously the first thing they ask for is a form of ID. After 9/11 I can understand the heightened vigilance that causes Homeland Security to elevate alert levels to orange every other week; I've seen it plenty of times on CNN. They say we're one step away from being attacked by a terrorist cell at any given minute. The problem is that I'm a little jaded to catastrophic predictions because I remember my mom telling me for years while I was growing up that California was going to break off in an earthquake and sink into the Pacific Ocean. Even though I was excited that we were going to get beachfront property in Palm Springs, my mother hammered it into my head that it was a bad thing. I've been preparing for the worst now for at least 20 years.
So like I said, I began checking in at the time-saving kiosk, only it prompted me that I needed some "special handling." The little lady behind the counter read her screen aloud, which clued me in that my name had been placed on the government's No-Fly list. After looking at my black shoes, black socks, black Dickies shorts, black shirt, and black SoCal hat she decided that I didn't exactly fit the Muslim extremist profile she saw on the screen. At this point I was keeping my mouth shut, I've learned that if you want to board a plane, pushing the social mute button is usually the best idea.
After about 15 minutes of jumping back and forth between her computer terminal and her phone, she informed me that there had been a slight identity issue, but not to worry. Apparently there is another, much older, John O'Neill who hates America and the people that work, live and enjoy everything here. Either that or he really pissed off the IRS, but I assume he's not being hunted for back taxes.
I know this is a little narrow-minded, but you'd think the same thing if your name was added to this governmental No-Fly list; John O'Neill is about as far away from Mohamed Atta, Ziad Samir Jarrah and Khalid Almihdhar as you can get. The problem now, though, is that I'm an indirect target for terrorism. Somewhere out there is an ass hat that shares my name and now I have to deal with his problems.
I've dealt with a lot of stuff in my life, whether it was family oriented, self-inflicted or even stuck on me for no apparent reason, but the one thing I won't deal with is some terrorist bastard sharing my name and throwing me into the middle of his issues. I'll say this once, please Mr. Old John O'Neill, please off yourself, roll video of the whole ordeal and send it into the CIA, FBI or whatever government institution handles that stuff this week. I'd like to save 20 minutes the next time I board a plane.
As a magazine editor one of my main duties is to go out and fly to the best shows, see the best shops and photograph the best trucks. Don't even start to think that I'm bitching about traveling all across the United States with my camera; I just have one small issue. It started last year sometime, I think it may have been when I was flying to the Sittin' Pretti show up in Seattle out of LAX airport.
