Richard McAuley and I were the only male Caucasians in the large “holding room” at Newark airport, in the United States. The rest of the people there — men and women of all ages and even a scattering of children — were mostly dark-skinned. The majority of our companions looked as if they were of Middle Eastern origin.
It was at passport control that Richard, my press secretary, and I were taken out of the line. Once our passports are put into an airport computer, the machine tends to light up like the Christmas tree at Belfast City Hall.
So, over the past decade or so, we have come to know a lot of airport holding rooms. Lots of times, by arrangement with the US State Department, our entry into the US is eased and an official will take us out of the line. Lots of times, this process isn’t quite so straightforward. Sometimes the FBI is around. That can be a bit of a pain. Most of the FBI people at airports are young fellas.
“Have you a schedule, sir?”
“Yup,” I say, with the patience of a man used to spending four or five hours at a time at the side of Irish roads in the company of the British Army’s Parachute Regiment, back in the days when British Army roadblocks were daily rites of passage.
I hand the FBI young gun a copy of my travel schedule — a document that has been in the possession of the US state department for the past month or so.
“Huh,” he says. “Why are you going to the White House, sir?”
“To see the president.”
“Huh. Why?”
“He asked me,” I say evenly.
My deadpan delivery is wasted on him. Maybe he is used to dealing with wise guys.
“Why, sir?”
“I can’t discuss that with you. Security … you know what I mean.”
“Huh,” he says, looking me straight in the eyes. I return his gaze. I have been interrogated on a number of occasions at Palace Barracks, where they beat you for the hell of it, so playing at “blinking first” with the FBI apprentice and letting him win is no problem.
When you’re trying to get into the US or travelling about the country by air, one of the battery of security measures in force is called “secondary security screening selection” or SSSS. This is usually a random selection, we are told. The legend SSSS is stamped on the tickets of those randomly selected and the lucky ticket holder gets extra attention.
You’ll get your chance. SSSS rules and it’s coming to an airport close to you soon. — Â