Airport Security Check

Leslie Pearson, the Airport Reception officer, did not recognize the type their next clients belonged to. They did not look like holidaymakers on their way to Hawaii at all. They appeared to be father and son, for they both had the same name, Walsh. The older man looked at least seventy, and the younger one was probably in his mid-forties, though it was hard to tell because of his beard. They were both wearing dark and rather heavy clothes of unfashionable cut. The younger man had made one concession to the nature of their journey and destination: he wore an open-necked shirt with the collar neatly turned down outside his jacket lapels – a style Leslie hadn’t seen at large since the 1950s. The old man was wearing a brown striped suit, he sighed frequently to himself, looking around about him at the heaving, shuffling crowds with anxious watery eyes.

“As you can see, there is a bit of a bottleneck at Passport Control, ” said Leslie as he checked their documents. “But don’t worry – we will make sure you don’t miss your flight.”

“It wouldn’t worry me if we did miss it, ” said the old man.

“My father hasn’t flown before, ” said the younger man. “He is a little nervous.”

“Very understandable, ” said Leslie. “But you will enjoy it, Mr. Walsh, once you are airborne. You don’t know you are flying in those jumbos. It is like being in a train.”

The old man sniffed skeptically. His son stowed their documents away carefully in the inside pocket of his tweed jacket and positioned himself like a beast of burden between their two suitcases. “You take my briefcase, Daddy”, he said.

“Trevor – give Mr Walsh a hand with the luggage, ” asked Leslie his assistant.

“That’s very kind of you, ” said the younger man. “I couldn’t find a spare trolley.

Trevor, eyeing the two chaps, scuffed and scarred suitcases with disfavour, obeyed Leslie with ill grace.

Some forty minutes later the old man and his son were the centre of commotion at the security barrier between Passport Control and the Departures Lounge. When the old man stepped through the metal detecting door-frame, something on his person made the apparatus beep. He was asked to surrender his keys, and to pass through the door-frame again. Again the alarm was triggered. At the security man’s request, he emptied his pockets and took off his wrist watch – to no avail. The official frisked him with rapid, practised movements, running his hands over the old man’s body. The old man, his arms extended like a scarecrow’s, flinched and trembled under the examination. He glared accusingly at his son, who shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Passengers waiting in the same line, who had already sent their hand baggage through the X-ray machines and were aware that it would be piling up somewhere on the other side of the barrier, stirred restively and pulled their faces at each other, demonstrating impatience.

“You haven’t got a metal plate in your head, sir, by any chance? ” said the security man.

“No I haven’t, ” said the old man. “What do you take me for, a robot? ”

“We did have a gentleman once, who had one. It took us all morning to figure it out. He had been blown up by a mine in the War. His legs were full of shrapnel, too. You haven’t got anything like that then? ” he concluded.

“I said “No”, didn’t I? ”

“If you would just take off your braces, sir, and have another try.”

Again the electronic beep sounded. The security man sighed. “I am sorry, sir, but I must ask you to remove the rest of your clothing.”

“Oh, no you won’t! ” said the old man, clutching the tops of his trousers.

“Not here, sir. If you would just come this way –“

“Daddy, your holy medal! ” exclaimed the younger man suddenly. He loosened his father’s tie, undid he collar button of his shirt, and fished out a medal, dangling from a stainless-steel chain.

“That’s the culprit, ” said the security man cheerfully. “If you wouldn’t mind taking this medal off and passing through the gate again –“

“I’ve never taken this from off my neck since the day my dear wife gave it to me.”

“If you don’t take it off, you don’t fly, ” said the security man, now losing his patience.

“Come on, Daddy, ” coaxed his son, and gently lifted the medal and chain over the old man’s white head. He poured the shining metal skein into his palm and handed it to the official. The old man seemed suddenly to lose the will to resist. His shoulders slumped, he passed meekly through the door-frame, this time without triggering the alarm.