I grew up in Detroit (near, as Debbie Schlussel calls it, Dearbornistan), and my father sometimes sends me the Muslim newspapers (or as he calls them, “hate rags”). In addition, I blog weekly about the dangers of Islam to our society, but I have to agree with a commenter above. I am not agitated because of potential terrorism at the airport, but because of the measures designed to give us the appearance of being safe…instead of actual safety. My stress is typically…will I get my shoes off, my laptop out, not leave my boarding pass on the floor, and remember to dump out my water bottle and put my Chanel lip gloss in my Ziploc bag of tiny toilet articles…and then not forget to put that on the thing. No jewelry…don’t forget to remove that sweater…and so people who probably couldn’t spot Osama Bin Laden himself, if he strolled through security, can give me the once-over. Excuse me if I’m not entering a zen state.
