Text 12718, 234 rader
Skriven 2006-08-28 08:16:32 av /m (1:379/45)
  Kommentar till text 12713 av Rich Gauszka (1:379/45)
Ärende: Re: The iPod of Terror
==============================
From: /m <mike@barkto.com>


TLDR.   ;)



On Sun, 27 Aug 2006 22:57:05 -0400, "Rich Gauszka" <gauszka@hotmail.com> wrote:

>Terrorize an airline by accidentally dropping your iPod in the toilet
>
>http://www.canada.com/ottawacitizen/news/story.html?id=6a11bd67-f717-4aa3-80a9
-840c07949730&k=28503
>A suspicious package found in an aircraft washroom on a flight from Chicago
>on Tuesday afternoon brought out Ottawa police canine and bomb-disposal
>units.
>
>A member of the crew found the package about 4 p.m.
>
>The plane landed safely and was isolated away from the terminal.
>
>Passengers were taken off the plane and questioned by police while experts
>investigated the 'package.'
>
>The airport was not closed during the three-hour incident.
>
>Police issued a statement Tuesday evening saying the suspicious package 'has
>been identified as an electronic devicde commonly known as an iPod.' "
>
>
>
>http://forums.worldofwarcraft.com/thread.html?topicId=11211166&sid=1
>
>It all started when I got out of my seat to go to the bathroom. I went to
>the bathroom, washed my hands, and returned to my seat. A little while later
>the two stewardesses on the flight crossed each other in the aisle. They had
>a quick conversation that I was in earshot of.
>
>"I locked off the front lav. There's something in the toilet that's
>preventing it from flushing. Run some water and see if you can clear it." My
>face immediately turned red. The seat cover! I thought. It must have been
>too big to flush! I should have thrown it out!
>
>I was so embarrassed. I tried to act normal ... I took a sudden interest in
>the contents of the seat pocket in front of me, acted nonchalant and all. I
>watched as the stewardess got on her hands and knees in the lavatory and did
>unfathomable dirty work.
>
>Sometime later, I decided it would be best if I forgot the whole thing
>happened, so I went to put on my headphones and drown myself in iPod music.
>But ... no iPod. I panicked, checked my other pockets. Where was it? Not
>under the seat, not in the pockets, not ... anywhere. I looked up to the
>stewardesses. One of them had run past me in a decent clip. She was carrying
>a green handbook. She brought it to the other stewardess. They flipped
>through the handbook, read a page, then made a call. The other stewardess
>had retrieved a blue metal box and was removing some equipment from it.
>
>I put two and two together. I knew what had happened.
>
>So I walked up to the stewardesses, both clamoring over the handbook, and
>tapped one on the shoulder.
>
>"So, I had an iPod before I went to the bathroom, and now I don't. I think I
>know what's in the toilet."
>
>We had a quick conversation. I told them, "You don't have to call the TSA or
>anything, it's just my iPod." They said, "Oh, but we already did."
>
>So now I'm starting to realize that this is turning into a big problem. They
>offer their condolences, tell me that it's unfortunate, and I take a seat.
>Okay. So far, not so bad. I return to my seat and spend the rest of the
>flight trying to act normal.
>
>That is, right up until the pilot comes over the intercom.
>
>"Folks, this is the captain. I don't want to alarm you, but we've found a
>suspicious device in the front lavatory. Now, we think it's probably
>nothing, but in this day and age ... you can never be too careful. We'll be
>landing at Ottawa, where we will await further instructions."
>
>The cabin erupted with commotion. At that very moment, my face fell into my
>hands. What have I done?
>
>We landed at Ottawa, and we were taxiing to the gate. Without warning, the
>airplane then lurched to a sudden halt.
>
>"Folks, this is the captain. We've been ordered to make an immediate stop.
>Buses are coming to evacuate the aircraft." We were to leave all of our
>belongings on the aircraft; we would be shuttled by bus to the terminal,
>where we would receive our carryon items.
>
>My face fell deeper into my hands. Next came the waiting. Waiting and
>listening to more worry and commotion. A lot of us wondered if we could
>bring cell phones, wallets, passports, or customs forms with us. The
>stewardesses didn't have any answers; they had never been through this
>before.
>
>On the one hand, if I brought a cell phone, wallet, etc. etc., and they
>confiscated it, I would have to hunt and peck for it separately from my
>carryon luggage. But if I stuck all of that stuff in my carryon luggage, I
>would only have to find one bag when we clamored for our stuff in the
>future. I decided the smart thing to do was to stick everything in my
>carryon. But, I kept my wallet, because I knew I was in big trouble at this
>point.
>
>It took them 45 minutes to round up not just a bus and air-stairs, but an
>army of police and customs vehicles. One of the stewardesses took me aside
>and whispered to me. "Get off the plane last, and talk to the constable."
>
>So I did. I exited the plane last, and spoke to the Ottawa police officer
>waiting at the air-stairs. I told him that the device was my iPod, and he
>took down my license number.
>
>I continued to the bus. After a brief wait, it did NOT take us to the
>terminal. It took us to some industrial facility, where they housed utility
>vehicles. There, in the open garage, we were instructed to sit and wait. And
>wait we did ... another 30 minutes or so.
>
>This was possibly the worst part ... While we were waiting I got to overhear
>the passengers talking about me. Well, they didn't know it was me, but they
>knew someone had dropped an iPod in the toilet, and they made aaallll sorts
>of assumptions about this person.
>
>"Why didn't he have it on a clip? He could have clipped it to his damn
>pants." Or, "Why didn't he tell the stewardesses? Why is he hiding it from
>them and making us go through this?"
>
>I could have corrected them. I could have told them that it WAS on a clip
>and I DID tell the stewardesses. In fact, it was a lot of self-restraint to
>just keep my mouth shut and not make things worse.
>
>By this time the sense of guilt had left me. This wasn't my fault. Anyone
>could have dropped his stupid iPod in the toilet. It's really the government
>here. I mean, at this point the building contained six customs officials, an
>army of policemen, people from various security agencies, a bomb squad, and
>a couple of detectives. No one was doing anything. No one was taking charge.
>*I* didn't create this mess.
>
>The whole time, the officers were watching me. They had told me to keep in
>sight of them at all times.
>
>Finally, five or six customs officers set up a table and made an
>announcement. "We will be interviewing each of you one by one. Please form a
>line. Before we have our chat, make sure you have your ID, passport, and
>customs information with you."
>
>One person asked, "What if that stuff is still on the plane?" The customs
>official responded, "Then we will have a more formal chat."
>
>I got in line with the rest of the people, but shortly thereafter two police
>officers took me out of line. "Come with us."
>
>They took me to a discreet corner. They brought out a tape recorder. I was
>told to put my hands up on the wall and spread my legs, and I was frisked
>from head to toe. They removed my wallet, disassembled it completely, and
>placed each of its contents in its own plastic evidence bag.
>
>"Now Tim, for the sake of the tape recorder, I want you to state your full
>name and address." I did. "Now, each of us will state our name and position
>into the tape recorder." There were two detectives from the police
>department, a detective from Customs, and two members of the bomb squad.
>
>Then started the questions. They were easy at first. They asked me where I
>lived. What do I do for a living? Why am I unemployed? How come it's taken
>me 4 months to find a job?
>
>They asked me why I was visiting Canada. I was to visit a friend I met on
>World of Warcraft, Cara. They took down her name and what I could remember
>of her address. They asked me how we met.
>
>"In an online game."
>"What online game?"
>"Umm ... World of Warcraft," I responded meekly.
>"What kind of game is this?"
>"It's a fantasy game ... it takes place online."
>"Fantasy ... like it's got wizards and warlocks?"
>"Well, it's got warlocks." (And they need to be nerfed.)
>
>They asked me to describe my relation to Cara. I told them that people meet
>up in the game and go on adventures together, and that Cara and I were in a
>guild together that I was the leader of. They confused the concept of a
>guild with the game, however, and I had them believing that I was the Lord
>and Leader of all of WoW until I was able to correct them, and explain to
>them what a guild was.
>
>So, when they put the pieces together; namely, that I was visiting a female
>person that I had met over a computer game, their next line of questioning
>went down an obvious path.
>
>"So you and Cara are friends?"
>"Yes."
>"How long have you known her?"
>"About 5 months I think? Maybe less."
>"Do you have a romantic relationship with Cara?"
>"No."
>"Do you want a romantic relationship with Cara?"
>"No."
>"OK, so ... if you and Cara were drunk together, and she turned to you and
>said, 'Tim, let's go--'"
>
>I interrupted him. "Excuse me ... what's the point of these questions?" The
>detective hardened. "Let me make things clear. I ask questions. You answer
>them. Do we have an understanding?"
>
>"Yes." I paused. "I just don't see how this is relevant."
>
>He spoke right in my face. "I've got 5 good men going into that airplane
>right now. Five of my best bomb squad guys. If there is any reason that I
>should be concerned for their life, then I need to know now. So just answer
>the questions, and do as I say."
>
>Now the questions became really pointed. What do you think about 9/11? What
>are your views on the Iran issue? Do you think government is too big, too
>powerful? Would you ever "make a point?"
>
>He asked me if I knew how to make a bomb. "I have a degree in physics, and
>I'm not an idiot." Of course I knew how to make a bomb -- what kind of
>question is that?? The better question is, WOULD I make a bomb? The answer
>is no.
>
>They tried to trap me with some of their questions. I noticed they would try
>to get me to contradict myself. Like, I had earlier mentioned that I had
>never met Cara in real life, so they would later nonchalantly ask me when I
>had last seen Cara. Stuff like that.
>
>He told me there was a similar bomb scare in LA today. He asked me if I was
>connected with it. He asked me if I was connected to the "liquid" thing from
>Britain.
>
>
>

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