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drewkittyGWOT V - A State Of Desperation - Departure
My name is Joyce Jenkins. I am a reporter for the British Broadcasting Corporation. Traveling with me is my camera operator, Boyd Charles and my travel assistant, Jebediah ("Call me Jay") Stewart.
We were denied visas for America. In planning our trip, we discovered that there are only very limited connections between America and our destination, California. We were surprised to discover that we could not travel either from Canada or from Mexico to California either. Neither country would tolerate direct flights.
We ultimately traveled from British Columbia to the Washington Trust Territory, where we hired a taxicab to take us to the Oregon border. We had to walk the border bridge; there is no private vehicle traffic permitted. From Portland we could fly, once a day, to the California town of Redding. We waited a week for three seats to be available on the same flight, not wanting to be separated.
Our first experience with California was the interview with the Entrance Officer in the Portland airport.
"Why do you want to travel to California?" he asked, at his desk in the terminal with a California flag under glass and several security cameras prominently watching. Nearby, a pair of Portland airport police officers lingered. They didn't seem to pay attention but they were always present whenever the Californian was.
Unlike American customs procedures, there was no physical barrier between us and him. Only the desk.
He wore an army uniform. He asked that we not share his name. The country name tape read, "CA ARMY."
He wore a holstered handgun. Little did we realize that this would be only the first of many, many firearms we saw during our travels.
We asked permission to film. He gave it. He then repeated his question.
"We're reporters for the BBC," I said.
"No. You are a reporter. He is a camera operator. The other gentleman is a bodyguard."
The statement was bold and frank. There is a custom, when crossing borders, to accept what someone says when a person tells you their occupation.
"I have authority to allow you into California. I do not have authority to allow you to carry on your professions. Officials in Redding will make that determination.
"As guests in California, we expect three things of you. You must pay your own way. We are very poor. There will be no hidden fees, no special charges for services. You must behave like guests. That means no thefts, no crimes, no trespassing. You must be honest. We will not argue politics. But the first time you report a lie when you have been provided with material fact, you will be ejected."
He paused.
"Are these terms acceptable?"
We looked at each other. My assistant - my bodyguard - motioned to speak, and I nodded.
"What is the security situation like?"
"Very, very bad."
Jay raised an eyebrow.
"We are unable to guarantee your safety outside of major cities - unless someone higher than me chooses to authorize armed escort. Even then, keep your personal effects with you, avoid crowds, carry weapons."
"Excuse me," I interjected. "Did you just tell us to carry weapons? We're _reporters_."
"You do what you like. If his job is to keep you alive, _he_ needs to carry a fucking gun."
He scribbled on our tickets.
"Be here at 0400 for pre-boarding baggage inspection. Next!"
There was nothing to do but get up. Behind us, the line stretched halfway down the airport terminal. People who wanted to come to California. Some were coming home. Others were looking for work.
The California customs officer - armed - wasn't concerned with those.
Jay explained.
"He's looking for American agents and terrorists."
###
Each of us has traveled for the BBC on several continents.
We were not prepared for the baggage search.
A hard-eyed armed Californian went back and forth, supervising uniformed employees of a Oregon security company. Their uniforms did not have pockets. This was apparently to avoid arguments over theft.
They wore gloves. They carefully handled each item. They required that each electronic device be powered up and then recorded its make, model and serial number. They showed no interest in money, jewelry, alcohol or cigarettes - which we had provided ourselves with in the small quantities that lubricate travel in very poor countries.
Jay said as we boarded the plane, "They were looking mostly for bombs. But the focus on electronic devices was not just for that reason."
The plane itself was antiquated, an ancient Boeing 737 that had clearly seen better days.
A man armed with a submachine gun sat where the rear-facing flight attendant had used to sit. There was a red line painted on the aircraft floor.
"Good morning. Welcome aboard, Golden Bear Airlines, the California flag air carrier. Once we roll back from the air bridge, we are under the jurisdiction of California military law. You are required by military law to obey the directions of flight crew and security personnel. Deadly force is authorized. In particular, you are not permitted to cross the red line at the front of the aircraft. You are required to declare and present any weapons for inspection and peace bonding. If you have not done so, please signal the flight attendant now. Please be patient with our special procedures, they are for the safety of all of us. The flight will be about an hour. An attendant will now explain emergency evacuation procedures."
The explanation was thoroughly familiar to those of us who traveled pre-War.
"We are now rolling back from the gate. Please enjoy your flight."
My name is Joyce Jenkins. I am a reporter for the British Broadcasting Corporation. Traveling with me is my camera operator, Boyd Charles and my travel assistant, Jebediah ("Call me Jay") Stewart.
We were denied visas for America. In planning our trip, we discovered that there are only very limited connections between America and our destination, California. We were surprised to discover that we could not travel either from Canada or from Mexico to California either. Neither country would tolerate direct flights.
We ultimately traveled from British Columbia to the Washington Trust Territory, where we hired a taxicab to take us to the Oregon border. We had to walk the border bridge; there is no private vehicle traffic permitted. From Portland we could fly, once a day, to the California town of Redding. We waited a week for three seats to be available on the same flight, not wanting to be separated.
Our first experience with California was the interview with the Entrance Officer in the Portland airport.
"Why do you want to travel to California?" he asked, at his desk in the terminal with a California flag under glass and several security cameras prominently watching. Nearby, a pair of Portland airport police officers lingered. They didn't seem to pay attention but they were always present whenever the Californian was.
Unlike American customs procedures, there was no physical barrier between us and him. Only the desk.
He wore an army uniform. He asked that we not share his name. The country name tape read, "CA ARMY."
He wore a holstered handgun. Little did we realize that this would be only the first of many, many firearms we saw during our travels.
We asked permission to film. He gave it. He then repeated his question.
"We're reporters for the BBC," I said.
"No. You are a reporter. He is a camera operator. The other gentleman is a bodyguard."
The statement was bold and frank. There is a custom, when crossing borders, to accept what someone says when a person tells you their occupation.
"I have authority to allow you into California. I do not have authority to allow you to carry on your professions. Officials in Redding will make that determination.
"As guests in California, we expect three things of you. You must pay your own way. We are very poor. There will be no hidden fees, no special charges for services. You must behave like guests. That means no thefts, no crimes, no trespassing. You must be honest. We will not argue politics. But the first time you report a lie when you have been provided with material fact, you will be ejected."
He paused.
"Are these terms acceptable?"
We looked at each other. My assistant - my bodyguard - motioned to speak, and I nodded.
"What is the security situation like?"
"Very, very bad."
Jay raised an eyebrow.
"We are unable to guarantee your safety outside of major cities - unless someone higher than me chooses to authorize armed escort. Even then, keep your personal effects with you, avoid crowds, carry weapons."
"Excuse me," I interjected. "Did you just tell us to carry weapons? We're _reporters_."
"You do what you like. If his job is to keep you alive, _he_ needs to carry a fucking gun."
He scribbled on our tickets.
"Be here at 0400 for pre-boarding baggage inspection. Next!"
There was nothing to do but get up. Behind us, the line stretched halfway down the airport terminal. People who wanted to come to California. Some were coming home. Others were looking for work.
The California customs officer - armed - wasn't concerned with those.
Jay explained.
"He's looking for American agents and terrorists."
###
Each of us has traveled for the BBC on several continents.
We were not prepared for the baggage search.
A hard-eyed armed Californian went back and forth, supervising uniformed employees of a Oregon security company. Their uniforms did not have pockets. This was apparently to avoid arguments over theft.
They wore gloves. They carefully handled each item. They required that each electronic device be powered up and then recorded its make, model and serial number. They showed no interest in money, jewelry, alcohol or cigarettes - which we had provided ourselves with in the small quantities that lubricate travel in very poor countries.
Jay said as we boarded the plane, "They were looking mostly for bombs. But the focus on electronic devices was not just for that reason."
The plane itself was antiquated, an ancient Boeing 737 that had clearly seen better days.
A man armed with a submachine gun sat where the rear-facing flight attendant had used to sit. There was a red line painted on the aircraft floor.
"Good morning. Welcome aboard, Golden Bear Airlines, the California flag air carrier. Once we roll back from the air bridge, we are under the jurisdiction of California military law. You are required by military law to obey the directions of flight crew and security personnel. Deadly force is authorized. In particular, you are not permitted to cross the red line at the front of the aircraft. You are required to declare and present any weapons for inspection and peace bonding. If you have not done so, please signal the flight attendant now. Please be patient with our special procedures, they are for the safety of all of us. The flight will be about an hour. An attendant will now explain emergency evacuation procedures."
The explanation was thoroughly familiar to those of us who traveled pre-War.
"We are now rolling back from the gate. Please enjoy your flight."
