After passing through the turnstile, while heading towards the escalator, a woman with Metro Security stopped Gregg and I to scan our bags. The hand-held metal/drug/bomb detector read our laptops as trouble, and we were asked to open our backpacks. A glance at the assortment of gym clothes and work papers and she let us go.
Busy with the task of profiling us, the obviously foreign John Does, a black man also walked past. If there is any single group of people who stand out more that WASPs, in Turkey, it's black people. I even catch myself staring at them, just cause there are so few around that I feel a surge of excitement when I see one on the street. It's probably the same feeling that a birdwatcher gets when sighting a rare bird.
Seeing that bag-checks were taking place, he actually asked if he should open his, but was waved on.
Maybe I've been watching too much of The Wire, but I'm seriously shocked that I live in a place so backward, that it fails to harass a black man...
He was even prepared to accept the profiling; ready to get it over with by opening the bag himself.
I wonder if he felt weird about the situation.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
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