Life Before

Do you remember life before 9-11? I was 21 when our world was turned upside down on September 11, 2001. It was the Pearl Harbor or JFK assassination of my generation. A day I’ll never forget. A day my world unknowingly changed.

Do you remember life before the anthrax scare? That “little hiccup” wasn’t long after 9-11. If it had anything to do with those events, or someone took advantage of those events, or it just happened to coincide…who knows. But I do remember it and the fears people suddenly had of opening their mail. A ridiculous fear for 99% of us who get nothing but bills in the mail anyway.

I note these two occurrences because stemming from them are a couple of things that have become so a part of our lives that we don’t think anything of them. The first is TSA check in when you fly. I’m not talking about the removing of shoes, long lines, or body scans. I’m talking about the questions you get asked when you check in for your flight. You know the big one: has anyone you don’t know given you a package to place in your luggage since you packed it? I have always felt that was one of the most ridiculous questions ever.

For one, why would I be stupid enough to take a package from a complete stranger and put it in my luggage? I was taught at a very young age not to take anything from a stranger, let alone put the unknown object in my luggage. Besides, if some stranger had requested that of me and I had done so, why would I tell anyone that? Obviously the reason for doing so is nefarious. It would get me in more trouble than I could possibly imagine. And if I had done all of that already, I wouldn’t think twice about lying to cover it up. It’s a stupid question.

The other question is one you’ve heard every time you go to the post office to have something mailed. They put it on the scale, ramble it off to you while you read it on the little credit card machine in front of you, automatically answer “no” and go on with your life. It’s that question about your box or envelope containing something liquid, perishable or potentially hazardous. Prior to the anthrax scare, the post office didn’t particularly care what you mailed. Now they ask you that question as if it prevents people from mailing things like anthrax. Because, honestly, if I was a terrorist out to blow up somebody so I put a bomb in a box to mail it I would not say when the postal clerk asked, “Oh, yeah, there is something potentially hazardous in that box. A bomb. You don’t mind, do you?” Lying is the least of sins to a terrorist. A simple question is not going to stop his wicked plot to take down whomever.

One thing coronavirus has already changed is the questions you get asked at the doctor’s office. I’m not a regular visitor of doctor’s offices. As a whole, I avoid them. Personally, I’ve always thought you’re more likely to get sick visiting one than anywhere else. But, currently, I’m pregnant and have no choice. Although I am grateful to my doctor’s office for trying to keep things as normal as possible for as long as possible, the list of questions started early on. At first, it was just shortness of breath, traveling out of the country, been in contact with anyone who has it. The list these poor people have to rattle off now is longer than the riot act. Before it’s all over it will probably be as exhaustive as the Gettysburg Address, but whatever. So, last week I sat in my car (having called in to check in and then wait in my car until they called me back to say the nurse, room, and doctor were ready – please come in to have your temp taken and wear a mask) and listened to the long list of questions she must have had a prompt card in front of her. Honestly, I think they’re all crazy because I could easily lie about any of it so how asking these things stops the spread of the virus I don’t know. But one of the last symptoms on the list I almost laughed out loud at. 

“Are you having abdominal pains?” she asked. 

I wanted to say, “Lady, I am 35 weeks pregnant. I have a four or five pound baby kicking every inch of my ‘abdominals’ nearly every hour of the day. Not to mention the Braxton Hicks. So, yes, I have ‘abdominal pains’.” 

I was nice, though, and simply answered “no” since she wasn’t referring to the obvious and was simply doing her job. But, really, that is a dumb question to ask any pregnant woman in her third trimester.

I know tragic events like 9-11 or our current coronavirus are nothing to laugh off. People do die. Families do grieve. And life as we know it changes. But there are often times when I wish the “powers to be” would stop and think through some of the rules and regulations they put in place. And then find them as ridiculous as they really are.