I Don't Much Like This New World

["Howard Bramhall" <hwb67@msn.com>]

There are days, when I wake up, look around me and wonder, where did the old world go to?  You know, that world we used to live in before September 11th.  My memory of the old world is still very clear; this new one, which appeared with such violence and mass destruction, is a complete mystery.  And, for some reason, I don't think the old world is ever going to return.  Ever!

 

I went to the airport today.  Daytona Beach has the smallest airport you ever did see.  One commercial carrier (Delta) and I don't think they'll stay here much longer.  Judging from the heavy road traffic, I think all the out of towners (bikers and beach lovers) are arriving here by car or motorcycle.  Nobody seems to be flying into Daytona anymore.

 

I had to go to the airport to renew my security badge; the one I need to get to work at the airport's Weather Station, which just happens to be in the same building as the airport's Fire Department (yea, I work along real life heroes, although my guys don't seem to be near as busy as the ones in New York).  My badge hadn't expired yet, but it seems anyone who has one had to get it revalidated.  Because of the new world that we all find ourselves in, my existence required revalidation.

 

As I drove around the passenger terminal I had to maneuver my pick up truck around barricades blocking several roads leading to the passenger drop off point.  Seems like this drop off area no longer really exists.  Instead I see military vehicles, and several police cars, all parked where passengers would normally unload their luggage from the car and begin the process that puts their bag in the belly of the aircraft.  But things are not normal anymore.  That was part of the old world; the new one does not allow for such convenience.

 

I find overwhelming sadness looking at my new airport.  It does not have a friendly face anymore, the one that used to say, "Hi, isn't this a great airport?  Talk about convenience, and it's only a few bucks a day to park your car.  No lines.  And our planes always leave on time, here at Daytona Beach."  Now, the airport says, "Be careful.  Don't even think of bringing along anything that could be used as a weapon.  Leave the toenail clippers at home.  We're not very friendly anymore.  Things have gotten way too serious for us to be nice.  Just stand in line, don't complain, get on the airplane, and be careful who you talk to. And if you see anyone around you acting like a terrorist, be prepared to tackle him and risk your life to prevent him from entering the cockpit."

 

I don't much like this new world.  I know that we won't be able to bring back the old one, not ever, and that thought breaks my heart.  This new one is cold, forbidden, and damn scary.  And, once the sadness passes, I find myself extremely angry.  I want to punish those who changed my world.  Who made it this cold, dark, unfriendly place.  I want to punish them bad.  And, maybe, this feeling, this anger, is the answer to why they hate us like they do.  They feel we changed their world to the point where attacking us was their only option.  This revelation does little to enlighten me; I'm still extremely angry.

 

I have visions; ideas.  Thoughts that make me feel better.  I'll share one with you.  Instead of dropping food for the refugees along the borders of Afghanistan, I envision dropping gas masks.  Not to the refugees, but adjacent the terrorist camp areas.  I want the terrorists to know that they will need these masks very shortly. Funny thing is, when they put them on they'll soon find out we forgot to install those precious filters. They're not the only ones who know how to use biological and chemical weapons.  I'm pretty sure we invented the damn stuff.

 

Of course, we won't do such a thing.  Not very politically correct, and might get us in trouble with the few friends we seem to have left in that part of the world.  Friends that only remain that way as long as our check doesn't bounce.  Our only true friend seems to be Tony Blair.  And if these madmen crash a plane into Big Ben, I think Tony and George will begin discussing total eradication of the problem. What other choice do they have? These are the thoughts that one ponders in our new world.

 

This new world is so dark, so bleak.  I have such fond memories of the old one; it seems so pure, so innocent, so bright and full of hope, looking back on it all now.  I can only visit her in my dreams; a world devoid of anthrax scares, and military encampments.  If there was only a way to bring her back into my life.  If there was only a way. 

 

 

cya,

Howard