You would think after the recent happy news that Osama bin Laden had been shot, placed in a bag and thrown into the ocean that the world might have lightened up a bit. Sadly this does not appear to be the case. In these troubled times the price of freedom continues to be eternal pedantry.

A clean-living colleague emailed on Tuesday asking whether, as a smoker, I knew whether it was permissible to board a plane with a cigarette lighter on your person. It was, I replied.
His curiosity was piqued by the fact that he had just been accosted by security guards at the Melbourne Airport for having a miniature can of shaving cream in his hand luggage. Not the big type you’d use for school muck-up day or to shave a mammoth, just one of those tiny travel cans.
They’re not prohibited in Sydney; seemingly they are in Melbourne. And as my friend argued, what compounds the absurdity is that smokers can carry inflammable gas-filled lighters on board without sanction.
None of this washed with the humourless bunch of aerosols at Melbourne’s security gate, who gave my mate a stern talking-to and swiped his miniature can.
This was my friend’s cathartic email, sent from the departure lounge.
“So how stupid is this? I have just been all but cavity searched at security in Melbourne because I forgot I had a mini shaving foam aerosol in my bag, yet you can stroll on to the plane with a portable flame thrower. I mean since 9-11 how many planes have been brought down by angry suits foaming the inside of the pilot’s windscreen thereby rendering him unable to land…. How many planes have been hijacked by manic manicurists? And most infuriating of all how come the offending aerosol is fine in Sydney but banned in Melbourne?
“And you know what is even more ridiculous - look at the average bin Laden impersonator and you realize pretty quick that he doesn’t have much use for Gillette shaving foam, now with soothing aloe vera. Meanwhile you’re already ensconced in 33b with your Zippo neatly tucked away ready to inflict some mischief.”
It was a well-written spray and one which reminded me of the excellent comment on Twitter the day OBL was exterminated, hoping that the now-defunct terrorist mastermind would spend a hellish eternity clearing airport security.
About a year ago I had a similar experience at security in Sydney while heading home to Adelaide for Mum’s birthday. I’d bought her a white cheese platter which had been lovingly gift-wrapped in the store, and was carrying it as hand luggage. It went through the conveyer chute and a dour security bloke asked me if I was carrying a knife. “No,” I said. “I’ll scan the package again sir.” “Um, OK. “Sir I am going to ask you again are you carrying a knife.” “No I am not carrying a knife.” “OK sir I am going to have to ask you to open the package.” So I stroppily ripped the wrapping paper off and there it was, a hitherto-unseen weapon of mass destruction, a four-inch pate knife. I hadn’t seen the piddling little knife when I bought the plate in the store and felt like putting my hands in the air and shouting “Busted!” and confessing a plot to overpower the hostesses with camembert and then finish off the pilot with some quince paste.
I wrote a column about the stupidity of it all for The Australian Womens’ Weekly and received a couple of nice emails from readers saying they had a bit of a chuckle and relating their own stories of hyper-pedantic airport security both here and abroad. But I got one stern note from a woman saying that I should put myself in the position of the security guards, they’ve just got a job to do, blah-di-blah, and archly noting that “some people” also attract more attention because of their appearance. This seemed a less than oblique reference to the fact that, because my Cornish great-great-great-great-grandma was ravished by the Spanish Armada, those of us with a duskier hue and a single luxuriant eyebrow should resign ourselves to being odds-on favourites to get the gunpowder residue test whenever we try to saunter undetected towards gate seven.
For the benefit of any pedants reading this there are quite clearly many logical arguments which could be made about how four-inch pate knives can be used as weapons, or even that aerosols can (apparently) explode under pressure, but the issue is that all these points could be made with a laugh and a smile, rather than treating us law-abiding middle-class offenders like we’re Abu Nidal.
Osama might be lolling about on the bottom of the ocean in a garbag but his legacy lives on in the form of that lady letter-writer with her “they’re just doing their job” admonitions and the “Sir, just hand over the shaving cream” stylings of the po-faced security guards who spend their days lining up the swarthier traveller for more vigilant-than-usual handling.
We live in a world where people will stuff semtex into their jocks with a view to taking out aircraft and there are signs up saying we’re not allowed to make jokes about anything. It is also something of a dilemma that you apparently can’t shave yet the more you look like the brooding member of a sleeper cell the more likely you are to lose your Mum’s pate knife.
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