For security's sake, forgo the hygiene when you fly

It's been nearly two years since a group of men plotted to blow up planes in midair.

Now they've pleaded guilty to conspiracy in a British courthouse, and in America we're left with a laundry list of no-nos, including liquids at airports. Along with the changes from 9/11, airports today are equipped with chemical detectors, advanced X-ray machines and, in some places, dogs.

So come fly the very, uh, secure skies. It's about all airlines can offer in a time of higher prices, fewer frequent flier miles, the guy next to you who takes up both elbow rests, fewer peanuts, cranberry juice in cups that are getting smaller, and the sandpaper that passes as biscotti. Safety builds confidence.

Besides, as terrorists evolve, security is catching up.

Isn't it?

Earlier this month, my wife and I were flying home from a long Fourth of July weekend. Like good Americans we watched fireworks, ate potato salad and kept our distance from anyone sporting stars-and-stripes bathing suits.

Because of bad weather, our flight home was canceled and we were re-booked on a different airline. That meant instead of round-trip tickets, we had one-way tickets. And one-way tickets meant an automatic visit to the most American place of all - Grope-town, TSA.

It played out like an R. Kelly jam.

We took off our shoes. We took off our belts. We unzipped our bookbags. They put on their rubber gloves.

Then they started with the heavy pat-downs.

Fine. Until - beep beep beep - apparently, there was a small trace of glycerin, a common ingredient in bombs, on my wife's shoes. Her flip-flops set off a machine and a series of personal hygiene questions.

Do you use shampoo? Well, yes. Isn't that a good thing?

Do you use hand cream? Uh, yes.

Do you or someone you know take heart medication? Actually, yes.

That's when it dawned on me: We've evolved from racial profiling. We're trying to detect terrorists based on their beauty secrets.

Terrorists wear hand cream to treat the callouses from rubbing their plotting hands together. Terrorists have heart problems from all the excitement of getting rid of infidels. Terrorists must use loofahs and moisturizers to keep their skin looking young.

Airport screening procedures have been reduced to a random, barely worthwhile exercise: asking people if they wash their hair, a not-too-distant cousin from a sniff test.

So much for that confidence.

What's next: Do you scrub behind your ears with Irish Spring microclean beads? Were your clothes washed using high-efficiency detergent? Is that cucumber or kiwi scent in your lotion?

Security measures are a necessary inconvenience. The average wait time for screening in Norfolk is paltry, between three and 11 minutes.

The problem with the whole system is it's imprecise. Suspicion's cast too broadly.

Monday, Reuters reported that 400,000 people are on a government watch list of terrorism suspects, and 50,000 more appear on lists that can ban them from flying.

No telling how many of them wash their hair or use hand cream.

Mike Gruss, (757) 446-2277, mike.gruss@pilotonline.com