MAROONED around the holidays in 2011

Ever read stories about being marooned on land? Well, here is a tale of such an adventure, which at the time is happening in a country known to the world as the United States, where all dreams could come true if you have a job, money and no scruples. It is also the land that is beleaguered by its own people, regulated to an extreme, where the inhabitants put six, (spelled 6) locks on their doors to frustrate B&E artists. Three locked and three open, so when they try to open all six, they will lock the open three. It is a very safe country, I was told, one just has to be very careful and if possible, carry a big gun.  With the holiday season approaching, people have their Christmas presents sniffed by especially trained dogs and members of the bomb squad open the packages. At the airport of a large city on the Pacific coast are more armed personal in uniform, under cover and very stern looking, than travelers, but it is safe. One is allowed to breathe, not too deep, and in a certain way, that will not offend the authorities and does not sound threatening or condescending. During a briefing I overheard a person in charge of some uniformed security guards instructing them how to handle people, and it was very informative.

“You have to be firm with the people and authoritative. Be in charge and don’t apologize. They have to know and follow the rules or they will want to do things that will create problems.”

Surprisingly, he did not display his Swastika.

Standing outside of the terminal, I witnessed a very efficient dealing with an empty cardboard box, about a foot x foot x foot in size. A security guy looked at it, circled it, kicked it, bend over it, (to sniff perhaps) straightened up, readjusted his uniform, kicked the box again, and then talked into his lapel. Within a minute other uniformed men showed up, surrounded the box and ordered it firmly to open up and surrender peacefully. One especially courageous man, about 6’ 3” (190cm) with about 100 extra pounds of natural armor, call it fat, took the initiative and opened the box and removed a very mean looking piece of cardboard, turned it over, sniffed it, examined it from all sides and I expected him to slap handcuffs on it but instead he put it back into the box and arrested the whole box for trespassing, illegal parking and loitering. The vagrant box was then taken into custody and herded into a nearby-parked van. The whole procedure did not take more than ten minutes, an astonishing performance under the circumstances. I think the box must have been abandoned there by some frustrated patron since there are no facilities to put luggage into temporary storage while waiting for a connecting flight, possibly due to the fact of terrorists targeting innocent wardrobes and are intent to blow up sleeping bags, underwear and other assorted items for not converting to some true religion. Understandably this must not happen and I would hate to have my American flag motive underwear to be blown to bits by fanatics.

To be fair, I also had the pleasure to meet some really great folks during my involuntary stay in LA who put their lives on the line to protect people from real threads. An LA bomb squad member Anthony and a customer service personal member Dale have assisted me beyond call of duty and I will value their kindness. These people made the difference in being marooned in an airport, anxiously waiting for the other kinds of authorities to decide my worthiness to return to my vessel in an island group called French Polynesia that has been legally taken over by the power of the gun from the native population.

While I waited for the decision, I pushed a cart with my sparse belongings from my temporary sleeping seats to the bathroom, the coffee shop and the seats along the walls where I plugged my damaged computer into an electric outlet to be able to write this story. The daily trips Down Town to retrieve email messages from my friends and find out another disappointing piece of news, has turned into a pilgrimage, lugging around 25 pounds each packs is wearing down the heartiest and when strangers nod in greeting, one knows, a certain familiarity has been established. The next I know is, they will call me by name and will ask me for a drink or to lend them money.

The new computer I purchased must have been subjected to some rough handling also because the screen has broken and was no longer useable. Filing a claim with Air Canada was a hope to get the computers fixed along with the luggage suitcase. The stickers “FRAGILE” seem to invite some people to test the resistance of the items in question and thus maintain a low level of unemployment in the industry. I believe it is called “Creative Job Maintenance”. Of course, it is a very annoying fact when the owners of those broken items complain and want compensation but hey, job security is a desire most people can’t ignore. This computer was to work as a navigational instrument and has not even been installed with the charts and drivers needed, it was a virgin machine, and it is a shame to see it going down this road. Even the suitcase’ interior plastic liner has been shattered and I wonder what elephant must have stepped on it. Very much to my astonishment, the bottle of maple syrup was still in one piece although it has been to the side where the shattered plastic liner was; Tough Canadian,eh?

 I am now in Fiji but have not been able to continue the blog for a while so some of the blogs will be about the time from December 2011 to December 2012