It's official, I am no longer an alien, I have reached the status of “visitor” to the States. Last time I went to the States when I was pregnant with Mahalia, I was known as an alien. I realised when I was halfway through the one long customs queue that I had left my i-pod on the plane. This must have been because I was tired because I remember picking it up from the seat pouch to put it away. I contacted a Qantas ground staff lady and she radioed through to the cleaners of the plane. They finally found it but I had to wait an extra half an hour to get it back.
The next queue was for the domestic security check-in to fly to Santa Fe. Unfortunately I was a serious beeper with the walk through scanner. I had to be taken aside and “patted down”. It was a serious grope. The woman had no personality whatsoever and was very short with me. She kept asking if I was wearing any metal. I think the bra wire and metal rivets in my pants were setting of the machine. She made me fold my pants over so my mummy tummy was showing to the whole world. When I objected she siad that she had offered a private ropom for the inspection. I chose not to say that would have been more scary because there were no witnesses to her “inspection. I also didn't want people to think I was being taken into a room as a suspected shoe bomber. Of course, I kept my mouth shut because these laws are in effect a form of censorship of freedom. My dignity was stripped away as I stood there in front of about 50 people having every inch of my body squeezed or stroked with her rubber gloved hand. I tried so hard to be proud but found the tears streaming down my face. The security guard got annoyed with me because I kept looking over to the x-ray conveyor belt to check if my laptop, camera gear, watch and wallet were not being stolen. She asked me who would take them? Other passengers perhaps? Finally she got my things and brought them over to the groping area. She dumped my shoes and watch on top of my shiny new laptop. When I lifted them off she again got annoyed and said I wasn't allowed to touch any of my things. I objected because I was concerned it would get scratched. She just didn't care about my property and thought I was being pedantic. When she was finished checking me over, she asked if I wsa okay. I said “not really” and she again reminded me in front of her supervisor that she had offered me a private screening. Just to be sure I wasn't going to be taken anywhere I said “that's okay, you were just doing your job, thanks” I hated myself immediately for saying such a load of BS just out of fear of the US law enforcement. Somehow I felt saying those words would get me out of there faster. It is not easy to get into the USA.
I took heaps of aerial shots flying out of LA and across the desert. What an amazing landscape- a mixture of dry isolation and snow sprinkled over rocky canyons and flat patchworks of farm land in a variety of arid colours.
As I was getting off the plane, a lady called Carol-Anne from LA starting talking about photography and asking if I was in town to hear Annie Liebowitz talk on Saturday. Apparently she is also doing a book signing at the Georgia O'Keefe Gallery around the corner from where I am staying. I will enquire tomorrow morning.
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