My Random Pieces

Here's another fun little tragic comedy from my life. Take a seat, and let me tell you how I ended up on a no-fly list. The whole story begins the way all fun stories begin - with the writing of an environmental technologies article for a magazine based in Kuwait.

That's not how any fun stories begin, you say? Well, it's how this one begins, so hush up and read on.

In my twenties, there was a period where I was between a few kinds of work and had time on my hands. I was a bit listless as far as knowing what I wanted to do with myself at the time. Actually, that might explain the bulk of my life as a general rule. My older brother solved that issue for me temporarily by suddenly tossing a writing job into my lap. He was familiar with the publishers of a magazine that was just starting and needed contributors for their first issue. Since I had time and interest, I took on a couple of article jobs from them. Pretty standard stuff - some research work on different environmental technologies, carbon sequestration and green energy initiatives. This story isn't about those articles though. This story is about the chaos storm those articles created, centered around me, my bank at the time, and the national no-fly list.

Let's skip ahead - the articles have been written. That should have been the hard part, right? Do the research, write the articles, and get paid. But here's where things got sticky. I opened a bank account specifically for the purpose of these articles. I wanted to track my writing income independently of anything else for one reason or another. Turns out that was terrible idea. You will rapidly learn that I have a lot of those. In the interests of privacy, I will not be using real names other than myself and my family.

Small Town Bank was not prepared for my brand new account to receive a sudden sizeable overseas deposit from a Middle Eastern country. No, hang on. That's putting it too lightly. Small Town Bank did not handle it well when my brand new account took on a sudden deposit from the Middle East. Hm, still not dramatic enough. Once more.

Small Town Bank absolutely shit the bed when my brand-new account received a deposit from the Middle East. Without missing a beat, they put a hold on the deposit and the account and hit the giant red flashing PANIC button. I can't even imagine what hell broke loose in that little bank when the deposit came through - but it very clearly wasn't sunshine and rainbows that day. Everybody got phone calls. I got one, the magazine owners got one, my brother got one, and the FBI got one. Probably more than one. Hell broke loose at Small Town Bank, and they were doing their absolute best to prop those gates wide open and let the chaos flow. Hey Small Town Bank employees, you may want to read Recognizing (And Escaping) A Toxic Workplace. Just saying, it could prove useful.

So the shit hit the fan. Everybody was freaking out all over the globe at this point. I'm freaked out, my family is freaked out, the bank is freaked out, and the magazine is freaked out. I'm pretty sure at this point that hell itself was freaked out. Someone opened the door for them to shoot into Small Town Bank and cause chaos, but the chaos was already too much for them and the denizens of hell just sort of stood around trying to figure out what the fuck they could even do with the situation at hand, let alone how to add anything to it.

For the next two weeks, it was phone calls all around. I spoke with the bank, the magazine, the FBI, and everyone in between as we all tried to sort out the situation and prove that I wasn't some kind of international terrorist. That's not a joke - that's seriously what the bank flipped out about. The bank exec who hit the panic button did not know where Kuwait was other than "Middle East" which in that small Alabama town simply meant "terrorist".

"It was an honest mistake", they kept telling me. "Please understand that it wasn't anyone's fault", they insisted.

Really? The big scary "Oh Shit" button pressed itself? That is one fancy "Oh Shit" button. It didn't even need a human to help it go full crazy. Let the AI wars begin, I guess.

Eventually, after a couple of weeks, things were sort of resolved. As much as you could call any of it resolved. This was the early 2000s, so everything involving the word "terrorist" was basically a disaster waiting to happen. I ended up in contact with an FBI agent who got things at least sailing, if not exactly smoothly. The Kuwait deposit was allowed through, and my account with Small Town Bank was unfrozen. Yay. I was paid for my work at last.

Oh, how I was paid. I got the money I was owed, with a lively little side prize of my name being put on a watchlist. As the FBI explained: Simply put - at that time, a bank starting this whole panic process put my name in a database associated with a lot of fun little watchlist words. That watch list then uploads to the FAA, and because they don't want to deal with the headache of sorting, reading, categorizing, and then finally looking through the huge chaotic database, those names and words just go straight onto a no-fly list.

"Well," I say, "Now everything is good right? Let's go ahead and take my name off your lists."

"No can do, sir," The authorities tell me, "Once your name is on, it stays on. Security reasons."

Security. Right. That's a very fancy word for that in this case means "we're too lazy to do t and also don't give a shit".

"Look on the bright side," They tell me. "Your name is on the same list as some very prominent people, including US senators!"

Yeah, that's cool as hell. We can all not get on a plane together. It'll be awesome.

This of course set off another round of phone calls and headaches. This time the solution was that I am given a reference number. This reference number, when given to the TSA, allows me to board planes. It effectively calls to a note in the no-fly list that says "Oh hey, he can actually get on the plane. Just kidding." It's a workaround, and it's not ideal, but it works. It also comes with one free total cavity search. Every. Single. Time. God forbid I ever try to smuggle anything, right?

Fun fact? I have also been accused of smuggling, and by an international corporation no less. Interested in how the hell that happens? Well, that story is just another one of My Random Pieces you'll have to stick around for.