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The future ain't what it used to be
Apr. 13th, 2007 03:10 pmThere's something that always disturbs me about airports here in the 21st century. It's not the lines, the wait, the exorbitant prices or any of the more obvious concerns one experiences flying in the post 9/11 world. What gets me is that the airport, more than anywhere else, offers the most glaring example of how we're living in the wrong future.
To me airports should have an air of mod futurism about it. A go-go Pan-Am of the mid-60's aesthetic, where Jet Set chic meets the Supermodernity* of Marc Augé. I picture sexually ambiguous pilots with Rock Hudson good looks and air stewardesses straight out of a Russ Meyer wet dream, blinking come hither to stares from heavily mascaraed eyes. I imagine snug astro leisure suit uniforms, sipping day glow cocktails and words like 'Rocket' used as a prefix regularly: "Drink your Rocketjuice boy, if you want to grow up to be a airplane pilot!"
Yet what what we seem to have gotten instead is this strange pre-apocalyptic mash-up between an internment camp and a shopping mall (which, come to think of it, basically describes America in the new Millennium). Giant cartoon animals smile down on herded swarms of travelers as guard dogs sniff at your crotch for drugs and terrorism. Long lines of the weary form around overpriced fast food stalls while a very polite recording states over the intercom what color the National Threat Code is for the day. Video screens bombard artificial couples walking along the beach blissfully while you strip down out of your belt, jacket and shoes to the satisfaction of bored security drones.
It is Guy Debord's Society of the Spectacle setting up shop in the barbwired walls of Guantánamo Bay. A philosophy that might be summed up as "Shop n'Scare". A threat assestment that translates into: Beware but don't Be Aware!
Well it's not all bad. You can't smoke a cigarette sure, but thankfully you can still get drunk at the bar once you've been stripped of your shampoo, water bottle and your dignity by the proper authorities. In fact I don't recommend not drinking before any given flight. The alcohol doesn't just steady the nerves but it also dulls the senses to the perpetual mall and panic sensory gang bang that is flying the friendly skies in our new America.
Plus, you never know when you might want to give in to a burst of Bourbon induced 'Air-Rage' to remind the fuckers that we're still human beings every now and then!
*- I gotta give props to Warren Ellis who introduced me to this term in his wonderful comic book Desolation Jones, which is probably one of the best spy comics to come along since Greg Rucka's Queen & Country in my opinion.
To me airports should have an air of mod futurism about it. A go-go Pan-Am of the mid-60's aesthetic, where Jet Set chic meets the Supermodernity* of Marc Augé. I picture sexually ambiguous pilots with Rock Hudson good looks and air stewardesses straight out of a Russ Meyer wet dream, blinking come hither to stares from heavily mascaraed eyes. I imagine snug astro leisure suit uniforms, sipping day glow cocktails and words like 'Rocket' used as a prefix regularly: "Drink your Rocketjuice boy, if you want to grow up to be a airplane pilot!"
Yet what what we seem to have gotten instead is this strange pre-apocalyptic mash-up between an internment camp and a shopping mall (which, come to think of it, basically describes America in the new Millennium). Giant cartoon animals smile down on herded swarms of travelers as guard dogs sniff at your crotch for drugs and terrorism. Long lines of the weary form around overpriced fast food stalls while a very polite recording states over the intercom what color the National Threat Code is for the day. Video screens bombard artificial couples walking along the beach blissfully while you strip down out of your belt, jacket and shoes to the satisfaction of bored security drones.
It is Guy Debord's Society of the Spectacle setting up shop in the barbwired walls of Guantánamo Bay. A philosophy that might be summed up as "Shop n'Scare". A threat assestment that translates into: Beware but don't Be Aware!
Well it's not all bad. You can't smoke a cigarette sure, but thankfully you can still get drunk at the bar once you've been stripped of your shampoo, water bottle and your dignity by the proper authorities. In fact I don't recommend not drinking before any given flight. The alcohol doesn't just steady the nerves but it also dulls the senses to the perpetual mall and panic sensory gang bang that is flying the friendly skies in our new America.
Plus, you never know when you might want to give in to a burst of Bourbon induced 'Air-Rage' to remind the fuckers that we're still human beings every now and then!
*- I gotta give props to Warren Ellis who introduced me to this term in his wonderful comic book Desolation Jones, which is probably one of the best spy comics to come along since Greg Rucka's Queen & Country in my opinion.