Dear Josh,

By the time he was 30, Alexander the Great had visited Persia, was gay, and Great. I turned 30 last week, haven’t seen Persia, am not gay, and am Middling at best. In addition, I had a pop-tart for lunch yesterday. However, I have now set my life on a course of Action. This much I have in common with Alexander the Great.

Course of Action: I have recently declared war on the United Nation’s security apparatus.

And I am happy to report that I am winning my war. I should note that ‘winning’ is according to rules that only I have agreed to…the United Nation’s security apparatus being a multi-headed nincompoopish hydra that can’t agree on anything, let alone the rules of our war.

I should back up….The UN has several buildings around town (think: Chick-fil-A) and to enter you have to go through a ‘security check’. This is fine. I fully support security checks. What I don’t support are joke security checks applied haphazardly or in an un-egalitarian manner. I don’t take joke security checks very seriously and this is why I have decided to wage an impish war against the United Nation’s security apparatus. Which I am winning.

Why are the security checks a joke? Good question, Josh. Let me walk you through the process.

Case 1: Wherein you approach a UN building on foot

You walk up to the building gate. It’s pretty ugly and soul-sapping but you figure, ‘I’ve got a meeting to attend….can’t go around it, can’t go under it, guess I’ll go through it’.

In theory, you show an ID badge to a guard and hang it around your neck, sign a security log, and have your bag inspected. The guards, if they even look at the ID badge, do so as though if they stared at it closely it would burn their eyes. Which, because I’m so white, might very well happen.  The log supposedly keeps a record of who enters, but none of the guards look at it and only care that you fill out all the fields: name, organization, date, time.  

Case 2: Wherein you approach a UN building in a car

You wave and are let in. 

Case 3: Wherein you approach a UN building in an inner tube

Stop living in dreamland, Josh. That’s how you get in the World Bank.

The process is a joke. I began to wonder if you could get past the security check if you produced a rectangular piece of plastic, scribble anything with a pen, or game the system of cunning bag-related questions. And so my impish war began.

Since launching my war, I have shown the following in lieu of an ID badge to pass security: a business card, my US driver’s license, someone else’s business card, my Brussels Air frequent flier card, and, I shit you not, an ‘invisible card’.

When asked to sign the security log, I have signed as: William Shakespeare, Whitey McBlanco, and Ban Ki Moon. I have represented: NASA, the White House, Bob’s Clam Hut, and Hollywood.

On the bag inspection front, I am happy to report total victory. I discovered that when asked if I have a computer in my bag, I say no, there is no bag inspection. Turns out that every time since then I have not had a computer in my bag.

Like Alexander marching towards India, I’m not exactly sure what is the end goal of my campaign. To amuse myself? To change the system? If I could just get the UN security apparatus to agree to some terms of a truce, I think we’d be fine. Maybe if they posted signs that said “Security Check-ish, If You Feel Like It” or the guards handed out slices of pizza or somehow justified their jobs, I’d be fine. But until then, my war continues. Alexander died at 32, I think if this bullshit continues I might do so as well.

Sincerely,

Captain Crunch, Anti-Defamation League