I spent last week in Las Vegas for work. It was my first week of work for a new company, and I was an attendee at reInvent. Life was hectic to say the least.
I was privileged to spend the couple weeks before starting the new position, and attending this major conference, on some much needed vacation in Hawaii.
In between those two events my wife and I managed to host a small Friendsgiving day gathering. Many amazing rounds of The Queer Agenda were played, and the delightful sound of laughter over far too many slices of pie and delicious sparkling tea filled our small San Francisco apartment.
As I reflect on these past weeks, it’s worth noting the things that went wrong along the way, the missed opportunities, and the things left unsaid.
Towards the end of my Las Vegas journey, I had an extremely negative experience at the airport. While it could have been much worse, it shouldn’t have happened.
I’ve rarely spoken publicly about my health issues, specifically my mental health.
I’m Neurodivergent - ADHD and ASD - among other diagnosis’s. Navigating the world is sometime a hard thing to do, even on a good day, and even when I have the help of friends.
I was unfortunately traveling alone for my return trip home. It’s been a while since I’ve traveled alone, but I had recently been to Vegas in August for Defcon, and was feeling pretty confident that I wouldn’t have many issues.
I set a stretch goal for myself. As an avid scuba diver, I live by two rules: Never stop breathing, and always come back safely. I wanted to reactivate my TSA pre-check.
Since achieving goals requires preparation, I came prepared with all my required documentation. I had a conversation with some of the friendliest security staff at SFO during my departure phase, to ensure what I wanted to do was feasible. It sounded doable.
On the return leg, I allowed myself a full four hours to get my bags checked, complete the TSA precheck application and interview phase, get through security and to my flight home.
In fact, I had even arrived so early, that I had to wait several minutes to use automatic bag check kiosk, because you can’t check the bag even a minute beyond four hours from the scheduled departure of the flight.
Of course my checked bag was just the teensyiest bit overweight, coming in at the 65 of the allotted 50 lbs. I assure you, this really is me packing light. No seriously, it was even worse on the Hawaii return trip.
Still…
Done with my by bag drop, I went over to the agency that was offering to help fast track my PreCheck application.
I was greeted, seemingly friendly at first. I explained to the first person what I wanted to do.
“I don’t do that, you need to talk to that guy” he points.
I walk over, and after only a few words out of mouth I’m cut off from completing my sentence, and have a QR code shoved in my face.
“Fill this form out”, no other instruction.
I attempt to communicate that I may need additional assistance, but I’m cut off mid sentence with the QR code being shoved back into my face, and a curt “Fill out the form”.
Fine. I fill out the form. I put in my personal details, I select which documents I have with me, which airport I’m in. It takes a few minutes to supply this information, but I get through it.
“Ok, what are the next steps?” I ask the balding man, the form complete page open on my phone web browser.
“Now you go to the enrollment office and get fingerprints done. You have your passport, right?”
I don’t have a passport, and voice this. It turns into an argument, this man insisting I cannot complete this application without a passport.
After several very heated moments, and this man asking four other of his coworkers, we determine I don’t, in fact, need a passport to get TSA PreCheck.
“Ok, well you still need lots of documentation with you, and you don’t have that”, he asserts.
“I have everything I need, I assure you”, my patience is nearly eroded.
“Sir, I don’t think you understand”
“I’m not a sir”, I cut him off. He looks back at me, blankly.
“Where do I need to go?” I ask again, the tone of my voice wearing thin.
“Terminal 1”
I’m in terminal 3.
“You go down and around, and find the shuttle to terminal one, its..”
I cut him off, “down where, turn where? Your directions are confusing, can someone escort me to the shuttle, I have a disability”
“That’s not my job”
At this point, I’m frustrated, and turn to the four or five onlooking staffers who have been standing and watching the entire time.
After several very heated ”not my jobs”, one of them walks me to other side of the terminal, points to the guard at the info desk, and says “Ask there”
“Ask for what? I thought you were taking me to the shuttle?”
I’m genuinely confused at this point, and this person just walks away.
I go up to the info desk and explain the situation. The guard at the info desk informs me that the TSA PreCheck office in Terminal 1 is closed, and has been for more than a year.
“They probably don’t know”, he ends with, pointing back the direction of the 3rd party fast tracking service.
I walk back to the agency booth, and relay what the guard at the info desk told me.
“Oh, no, you need to go to our agency office in terminal 1. It’s not the PreCheck office, but that’s where we process the PreCheck registrations”, Mr Bald Head tells me.
I again ask for help getting to the shuttle in that case.
“Sir” he starts. I cut him immediately off: “I am not a sir”
The woman standing next to him chimes in, “Sir, that’s not our job”
I lose it; I snap and I yell at her, “I am not a sir”. I let lose, yelling at the lot of them standing there. For about thirty seconds I am just yelling, and I have no idea what is coming out of me. Anger and frustration, and as I catch myself, shame.
I walk away, holding back tears and rage that wants out. I set my AirPods to maximum isolation mode, drowning out the airport.
I find a quiet seat, and I sit.
I sit and I write. I listen to music.
I vent to my partner when she calls me.
I sit and I chill for an hour.
I go back to the security check point, some new faces have rotated in for the fast track agency. The women who sir’s me refuses to help while a new face, a lovely tall gentleman with dreadlocks, helps and takes me through to the TSA security screening point, letting ramble and vent along way.
After getting my carryon bags onto the conveyor belt, and explaining to one TSA agent why I wasn’t going to remove my ear buds, another tsa agent motioned me towards the metal detector.
As I walked through it, and it was fine, I didn’t set it off. The tsa agent stoped me, looked at me, and said…
“Sir, I’m going to need you to take the earbuds out”
I lost my shit, again. She hadn’t finished her sentence, and I couldn’t catch myself, my nervous system reeling, amped & fully cranked to 11! “I am not a sir”, I yelled, surprising even myself with the sheer volume that escaped my lips.
I caught immediately. I began to apologize. Perhaps the nicest TSA agent I’ve ever encountered stepped over and put her arms around me.
“I got you hunny”, she said into my ear, and helped get me the rest of the way through security. I deeply wish I had been able to get her name in the moment. I was frazzled.
Later, after a burger and fries, I was sitting at my gate playing Balatro on my steam deck. It was the perfect escape from the hellish past couple hours. A young woman approached: “is that Balatro?”
We had the most fantastic conversation, and I showed her how I approached playing the game. In fact, we got so caught up in our conversation that I almost didn’t hear the boarding for the flight being called.
The flight home was quick and thankfully uneventful. My checked bag was on the baggage carousel shortly upon arriving back in SFO. My lovely wife as there to pick me up when I walked out of the terminal. She ran over and hugged me, and I just started crying.
The ride home was short, I cried some more, and don’t recall much of the rest of the evening. I just know that I got the best sleep that night that perhaps I had gotten in the past several weeks.
Saturday evening I went to a small kink party with my queer family and friends. Towards the end of it, and after much so much fun, I fell into the lap and arms of someone very close to me. It felt so good, and knowing that they would be there for me when I got back from traveling was one of the things that kept me going through my travels. 💚
As I reflected on this experience, as I took in the experiences of those around me over the next days, something reminded me of the pledge of allegiance. That thing we used to recite in the morning when I was in grade school.
United we stand. Divided we fall.
It’s so true, on so many levels. Perhaps now, more than ever, it’s something we can all reflect on. It’s something I feel with all of myself when I’m around my queer family and friends. It’s something I feel when I’m around my coworkers and community.
It’s something I didn’t feel at all at the airport.
It’s not hard: When people ask for help, listen. Stand with them, help them, fight with and for them. When we don’t do this for each other, we all fall.
To the special people in my life, I love you all, and I stand united with you.
And to the amazing young person I had that wonderful conversation with, whom I won’t post your name here: if you do decide go into tech after your gap year, reach out and I’ll help get you an internship. I stand with you too.