Out of Sight, Out of Luck

Airport security is watching you but who is watching them?

By Booth Vance

When television producer David Gardner recently proposed to his girlfriend during a Christmas vacation at his parents’ house the moment was perfect except for one key element. “The ring was too big,” said Gardner.

Preparing to fly back to Los Angeles, Gardner hid the ring in a pair of rolled-up socks and buried it in the bottom of his suitcase. “I knew I’d be going in and out of my carry-on and felt it would be safer in my checked luggage,” he explained. Handing his suitcase to a Southwest Airline sky cab outside of Tucson International Airport, he entered the airport with his new fiancée for the trip home.

Upon unpacking, Gardner was shocked to find the ring missing. His disbelief gave way to anger as he told his fiancée what had happened. “The look on her face was one of devastation,” he said.

Gardner found a card in his suitcase stating that his belongings had been searched by the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), the division of the Homeland Security Agency responsible for airport security. Noticing that there wasn’t an I.D. number for the security personnel who opened his bag, Gardner called Tucson International to ask to have the video records checked during the time his baggage was in their care. He was amazed to learn that there were no video cameras operating in the secured baggage areas of the airport.

“I was surprised there wasn’t an identification number for the baggage handler who searched my bag, but I still thought it would be easy to determine who had taken the ring. With so many new airport security measures, I just assumed there would be cameras everywhere,” Gardner said. “Everyone in a casino is being watched or for that matter, a 7-Eleven. Shouldn’t the people who handle our property in an airport be under surveillance too?”

Like most airline passengers, Gardner didn’t realize that only a small handful of the 459 federalized commercial airports under the TSA jurisdiction utilize any type of video surveillance systems in secured baggage areas, leaving screeners and handlers free to open any piece of luggage, largely undetected. And with the requirement that all checked luggage remain unlocked-that is, except with an approved TSA lock that still allows Transportation Security Officers access to baggage-airport theft is on the rise.

With more people checking luggage after the new restrictions for carry-on luggage went into effect last August there has been a dramatic increase in “mishandled bags,” the term used by the Department of Transportation to define “lost, damaged, delayed or pilfered” items. More than 435,000 passengers filed reports of mishandled baggage during the first month of the new carry on restrictions, a 28% increase during the same month in the previous year.

Once luggage is checked, it passes through many hands, often traveling for miles on conveyor belts. Both TSA screeners and airline baggage handlers have access to all personal property which is oftentimes left unattended for hours if a passenger checks in early for a flight. With the TSA and airlines acting as separate entities, it is the norm for neither to take full responsibility for pilfered items. Theft victims are then forced to file numerous claims and hope for the best. To make matters more complex, the TSA doesn’t share theft claims with local police departments and only rarely with airlines.

On January 4th of this year, a seventh baggage handler was arrested for his role in a theft ring at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport that police uncovered after a four month sting operation. On January 5th, a sixth subject was arrested by police in connection with the theft of 158 pieces of luggage by employees of Menzies Aviation which oversees connecting baggage at George Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston.

While there are more than 36,000 airline passengers a year filing claims of personal item theft, the TSA responds by saying the actual percentage of theft is small considering the estimated 1.5 billion pieces of luggage that are screened each year. Also, the airlines themselves provide handlers that are not under the authority of the TSA.

“The actuality,” says TSA spokesman Nico Melendez “is that baggage is in the hands of airline personnel 95% of the time. However, we understand the public perception as to our responsibility given that we are the ones interfacing with travelers. We frequently execute undercover sting operations and anyone found guilty of theft is terminated immediately.” According to the TSA, in the five-year existence of the organization they have fired roughly 90 employees found responsible for stealing passenger’s personal items.

Melendez says that despite his organizations best efforts to reduce theft, passengers still need to take the appropriate precautions to safeguard their valuables. “We tell everyone that if something is of value to either carry it on or ship it.”

When told of the TSA’s recommendation, Gardner replied, “I know they have a tough job, but it’s hard to understand that a government organization would tell me to incur the cost of shipping my valuables because their own employees can’t be trusted.”

Melendez believes the implementation of video cameras in secured areas would serve a two-fold purpose. “Our goal is to protect the passenger’s safety as well as their belongings,” he says. Melendez is a supporter of video surveillance yet says that there isn’t enough funding available to outfit the many U.S. airports under the TSA’s jurisdiction. “Video cameras would also be a tool in protecting our employees from false accusations. We constantly review claims of theft only to learn that an item was misplaced.”

The Office of Management and Budget estimates that the TSA will spend $6.2 billion in 2007 for aviation security. Approximately $3.3 billion of that budget will come from passengers who are now required to pay a $5 flat security fee for each one-way trip. This new regulation stands to increase collections by approximately $1.3 billion over 2006 although more than half of the overall budget will be spent on just one security initiative—airline passenger screening.

Robert Cudmore, a Paris-based neuroscientist had his $1,000 camera go missing during a recent trip to Tucson and became exasperated by the bureaucratic maze he encountered. “The airline representative told me in essence that it wasn’t their problem” he said. “And the TSA was uncooperative other than providing me with a mountain of paperwork to file a claim. I didn’t know where to turn.”

Cudmore was relegated to filing claims with the TSA, the airline, the Tucson Police Department and his own insurance provider. His claims are still pending.

“With everything they are making us go through at airports under the guise of security, my first thought was how long before a baggage handler, who is presumably stealing for monetary gain, will accept a bribe and put something into a bag,” said Cudmore.

To date, there have been no reported cases of baggage handlers being held responsible for an act of terrorism. However, with a lack of video surveillance in secured airport areas; many feel it’s only a matter of time. In October of last year, 43 baggage handlers at France’s Charles de Gaulle airport were forbid entry into secure locations after an investigation claimed they had visited terrorists’ training camps in Pakistan and Afghanistan.

The TSA has certainly come under fire for their hiring practices although they have taken strides to overcome the initial setbacks. In 2004, Homeland Security Department’s Inspector General Clark Kent Ervin announced that more than 18,000 of the originally hired employees had not undergone required fingerprint or thorough background checks. 1,200 screeners were then fired after it was discovered they had criminal records or had lied on their applications. Ervin was unceremoniously released from his duties after making these and other claims of mismanagement and breaches of security by the TSA.

In 2004, the TSA offered airlines the opportunity to opt out of their contract via the Screening Partnership Program, which allows the hiring of private security contractors. To date, only a handful of small airports have taken advantage of this option–which is still under the hiring guidance of the TSA. Prior to the creation of the TSA, airlines would shoulder the burden of lost items. Now, claims are passed on to the government and with the added safety net of having the TSA assume responsibility for any type of a crisis, it is easy to understand why airports have chosen to maintain the current relationship. According to the TSA website (www.tsa.gov) the organization has a “zero-tolerance policy for theft in the workplace…and when infractions are discovered, offenders are swiftly removed from the agency’s employment.”

Ron Libengood is the founder and principal consultant of SecuraComm, a leading security planning, consulting and engineering firm based in Pittsburgh, PA. With over 40 years in the security industry, he is familiar with the necessity and pitfalls of comprehensive security measures.

“Implementing security camera systems can be very expensive when you consider the massive size of some secured airport areas,” says Libengood. “Lighting and camera angles also come into play and even if there is complete coverage, anyone motivated to steal can find a way to block the camera.”

While agreeing that video surveillance is an important tool that should be more fully explored by the TSA and airports, he feels there are other cost-effective measures that can be incorporated into airline security. “First, the public needs to be educated as to the dangers of flying with their valuables,” he says. “I have logged millions of miles in the air and have learned the hard way that there is always a risk in checking luggage. Also, the airlines and TSA can do a better job of executing more complete and thorough background checks.”

Despite a career that depends on his ability to stay one step ahead of potential criminals, Libengood is reluctant to categorize all airline handlers and screeners as potential thieves. “Most of the stealing from luggage depends on collusion between workers. Tip lines where employees can remain anonymous when reporting thefts would go a long way in curtailing the activity. I still feel that the vast majority of airline workers are honest and take their jobs and responsibilities very seriously.”

After submitting the various claim forms provided for passengers, Gardner stands to receive approximately 1/5 the value of the ring through the TSA, Southwest Airlines and his own insurance. If his luggage had gone missing he could have been compensated up to $2,800 by the TSA; but their average claim payout for “pilfered” items is $150, with an average of $450, offered by the airlines. “I always felt that my luggage was protected when it left my hands,” added Gardner. “Now I feel it’s like the fox guarding the hen house.”

Author: Booth Vance

Powwow 101

Powwow 101 – Songs, Dances and Public Participation
An article about the original American dance form
by Corina Roberts


The Dances

There are a number of dances that have evolved from tribal traditions into the styles we see in the arena today. The men’s northern and southern traditional dances are adaptations of ceremonial dances practiced by tribal nations throughout the current-day United States. Northern traditional dancers can be recognized by their bustles, often made of hawk and eagle feathers, and their style of dance, moving to the fast rhythm of the northern drum. The southern straight dance, often referred to as the “gentleman’s dance”, is more reserved, keeping time to the slower, deeper beat of the southern drum. Southern dancers do not have bustles, but their regalia is no less impressive.

The Fancy War Dance, or Fancy Feather Dance, is an adaptation of the dances of men’s warrior societies of the northern plains. The regalia is flashy and includes a great deal of ribbon work. Double bustles flash and sway with the athletic movements of the dancers as they perform this stylized version of their tribe’s ancient ceremonies.

Grass Dancers served an important function when nations had celebrations or ceremonies. Their task was to flatten the grass where people would gather and smooth the ground. They bring good energy into the circle and make the way for the dancers who will follow. Their movements emulate the motions of smoothing the grass and soil, although today they often dance on manicured athletic fields and on gymnasium floors.

Women’s dances have also evolved over time. They too are divided by region, Northern and Southern, and further divided into buckskin and cloth. The northern woman’s regalia may weigh 70 pounds; rich with full yokes of beadwork and breastplates that hang to their ankles. Southern regalia usually employs less beadwork, and breastplates of shorter length. There are numerous tribal variations, some of which have very little or no beadwork whatsoever.

The Jingle Dress is covered in small cones. It is a healing dance, the sound of the softly jingling cones and intricate steps of the dance invoking well-being. It is said to have come to a family in a vision, and the dress is created with 365 cones – one for each day of the year. The Fancy Shawl Dance is beautiful and energetic. The dance is said to represent the girl or woman’s emergence into the world as a butterfly emerges from a cocoon, surviving the struggles of its metamorphosis and gaining strength and beauty with each floating step.
The Gourd Dance is actually a ceremonial dance originating with the Kiowa nation.
It is a warrior society dance, often mistaken for a veteran’s society, but the Gourd Dance predates the formation of the United States. Men dance within the circle to sets of ceremonial gourd songs while women wearing shawls support them from the edges of the circle. The gourd dance honors both men and women and affirms their roles of protecting and supporting each other. Please do not photograph this dance.

Public Participation
Arena Etiquette, Intertribals and Blanket Songs

There are numerous times throughout a powwow when the public is welcome to experience the circle first-hand. There are some simple things to know about the arena that will help you enjoy the experience.

The dance arena is a place of positive and healing energy. Dance for native people is an active form of prayer. We are letting our feet carry our prayers into the Earth. You will notice that many women who enter the arena have shawls around their shoulders even if they are not dressed in dance regalia. This shows respect for the circle and for the feminine aspect of all women.

During dances called Intertribals, you are welcome to come out into the arena. We dance in a clockwise pattern, except for some members of warrior societies who will dance counter-clockwise around the outside edge of the circle. They are performing the function of a warrior, keeping an eye on the arena and watching over their friends and loved ones.

Your children are welcome to come out during these Intertribal songs as well, but please ask them not to run through the arena, cut across the arena from one end to the other, shout or touch the regalia of other dancers.

You do not need to wear regalia to come into the arena during Intertribal songs. Blankets and regular shawls can be worn over a woman’s shoulders; we know that not everyone owns a dance shawl, and if you choose to cover yourself this way, we will understand and appreciate this gesture of respect.

Throughout the weekend you will notice a number of times when a blanket is placed in the arena while a song is being sung. These blankets are for people…all people…to place donations on, for specific dancers or groups of dancers who have come to the powwow without compensation to share their culture, songs and dances with anyone who wishes to experience them. It is a way of honoring the commitment of these individuals and groups, who may have traveled from other states just to take part in the gathering. It is a tangible way of saying thank you. We will impose upon our dancers and visitors several times throughout the powwow to express their generosity during these blanket songs.

Some gatherings are supported by casinos, tribal nations, cities, counties or chambers of commerce. Putting on a powwow involves an enormous commitment of time, energy and money. The Children Of Many Colors Powwow is an all-volunteer effort, produced entirely through donations and vendor fees. As such, most of the people who will dance throughout the weekend have come without any compensation. The blanket dance helps them pay for their gas and food. It is not unusual for this money to be shared among as many as twenty people, or to be given as a gift to a needy family.

Cultural Preservation – Why It Matters

For many years Native American elders and wisdom keepers have been saying that we must care for the Earth if we expect the Earth to care for us. Now, the threat of global warming is no longer a threat…it is a reality. Today, more than ever, we need the wisdom of our indigenous elders to guide us in our actions.

Native peoples worldwide have always understood that humans do not somehow exist separately from the rest of creation – regardless of our ethnic or religious upbringing, our fates are intertwined. What we do to the Earth, we do to ourselves. Our actions matter. They have impact not only upon ourselves, but on the generations to come.

We need to take responsibility for our actions…for our health, for our planet’s health, for our children and for our children’s children. We need to come into balance with our finite resources and protect them. We need to act in ways that create a sustainable future.

Cultures that are aware of this balance have always existed, but they have always faced and often fallen to the pressures of the more “civilized” dominant societies; societies often out of balance with themselves and their relationship to other living things. When we talk about preserving and promoting Native American culture, we are talking about something much larger than powwows, or dancing, or learning ancient songs. We are talking about keeping alive the teachings that guide us in healthy ways to relate to other beings, human and non-human, and instruct us on how to care for our Earth so that the Earth can continue to care for us.

Indigenous cultures are not immune to the effects of the dominant societies they are surrounded by. We struggle with complex issues; what is sacred, what is marketable, and where to draw the line. We carry the additional burden of understanding that, while we must live in a society which dictates success in terms of wealth, our hunger for amassing wealth must be tempered with the teachings we know in our hearts are right and good. We know a different kind of prosperity exists; one which is inseparably connected to the health and well-being of all living things, one which has very little to do with money, property and prestige.

For native peoples worldwide, cultural preservation is about survival; personal, emotional, spiritual and planetary survival. We stand on the brink of environmental catastrophe now. The wisdom of our elders and the right relationship of ourselves to all other beings is perhaps more vital now than ever. Many of us were not raised traditionally. We have had to re-learn that wisdom which keeps us in balance.

We are in the process of revitalizing our songs and ceremonies, not for public display, but for something much greater; our survival as nations, as a species and as a living ecosystem, inter-related on all levels, from the smallest microbe to the distant stars. Our elders understood this, and they knew what was coming. It is time now for us to come forward and preserve not only our diverse and vibrant cultures, but the knowledge upon which they have been built.

Author: Corina Roberts is the founder of Redbird www.RedBirdsVision.org

Scooterer Stories, Part Ten – Route 6 to Elvis

Scooterer Stories
By Louis the Scooterer

The travels of Louis the Scooterer, a retired former South African who has found an unusual way of getting to know Israel.

Part Ten – Not Route 66, just Route 6, but at least there’s an Elvis.

Driving thru major cities and heavily populated areas do have some interesting places, but I reckon boredom could set in…so a quick discussion with myself, it is decided we will bypass those places and head toward Jerusalem and bypass to road 90 at the north end of The Dead Sea…and then will head NORTH ON 90. Then to much more exciting places. So now, I take the shortest route and get to Highway 6 (Kvish 6) to experience a short portion of that excellent highway.

I wrote a story elsewhere about that experience and its worth repeating here while we stop for a while at Herzl Forest and a quick visit to Engineering Forces Monument ( the highway story is told to you now while we take a coffee break…on the lawns at the monument.

Kvish 6 = Highway 6

Once, way back in the past – when I was still new to scootering – I remember vaguely having read something about an “Across Israel” (Highway 6) that was being built to be called Kvish 6. Then sometime later I read a sentence somewhere that the first 18 kilometers were ready and would be opened on some date or other. So, one day while scootering around, I came upon a road that was freshly tarred and was newly painted with pure white lines (being a new onramp >>> onto a new road).

So I asked a man in a van, “what is happening here?” He told me that Road 6 would be opening — in about 10 minutes, and IF I hung around I would be the first person to drive on it! About 10 minutes later, he told me to go!

The FIRST motor vehicle on the new highway was “me on my scooter”, going south…. no fanfare, no fuss, no cutting ribbons (this onramp was near Eyal Kibbutz. I rode those 18 kms on this beautiful, clean, smooth, well-built road with absolutely NO TRAFFIC. Later, one car went past me, and also an official “Road 6” patrol van.

So, all too soon I rode that 18 kms and went off at the new off ramp pointing to Rosh Ha’ayin, and rode to a coffee shop at a petrol station to drink a cup of coffee.

Then, about 30 minutes later, I decided to do the 18 kms going north….

NOW, this gets interesting… coz the new onramp is at the Head Offices of Kvish 6, and here was a big media event, TV people with cameras, newspaper people with cameras, many people with cameras… (except me, I never had a camera). There was a big party going on at the offices.

Many important dignitaries attended the “official opening”, and the “first drive,” which is from the office block going north — to the Eyal off ramp ~~> 18 kms.

I scooted in to the parking area and a woman ran up to me telling me “to get on the bus quickly, it’s waiting for me” (she thought I was a reporter from a newspaper). I soon sorted that out. So, I went into the lobby at the offices, a very posh affair with many people wearing suits.

I was given an orange juice and a cookie and a couple of maps, then someone told me I must leave… So a few minutes later I scootered on to the new 6 going ~~> north.

I noticed a few buses, many cars and vans and other vehicles were following me… as though I was the escort. After a short distance, all those vehicles overtook me and I guess I was at “the right-place at the right moment.”

I have since traveled several times on this beautiful, well planned, well built, well looked after, Kvish 6 highway, and also recently completed, now has two new twin filling-station-rest-rooms-shopping-complex on BOTH sides of the highway…. one way down south and the other up north. IT IS A DRIVING PLEASURE.

So I say…”Well done” and keep on adding new sections, and every time a new section was completed, I took a scoot to ride on it. The costs for a scooter are very little and I always feel safe riding on clean, litter-free roads. And all my trips have been in daylight hours.

A couple of times there were queries about the account that I received, but they were always solved by very pleasant personnel. I learned that much of the processes are automatically done to completion by computers, and the bill is clear and straightforward.

We need to squeeze a couple of hours visit to MINI ISRAEL…worth every minute and much more…all the model buildings and buses and trucks and soccer stadium and ports and cable-cars…and everything in Israel that is major importance is there in miniature….no problem with parking at the entrance, and obtaining a small electric golf cart to travel around in…Mini Israel is open on Saturdays, and is usually crowded so if you can manage during the week…better still.

Another couple of hours minimum is a must visit to the Armoured Brigade Military Museum at LATRUN where all sorts of armoured vehicles and tanks and many assorted vehicles of war that were captured from the enemies..during several wars. Pay an entrance fee and get some brochures, a movie in English explains and knowledgeable guides take you around and explain many things. (CLOSED ON SATURDAYS)… altho many captured vehicles can be seen if you drive a few hundred meters on the side road to the end of the fence. As usual, walking shoes and cameras always.

A short visit to the Monastery close by and a visit inside if you like climbing many steps…some days there are open air markets and food kiosks in the carpark.

Of course plan your day to visit NEWE SHALOM, close to Latrun, a neighbourhood where Israeli and Arab live side by side. A quick stop at the hotel lobby for some good brochures and then take a slow drive (or even a walk) through the streets and see what can be achieved.

Then we kadimah (move forward) coz our new journey has only just begun.

We pick-up route #1 and head toward Jerusalem..and at junction at Abu Ghosh we make a detour and head for ELVIS INN…this delightful restaurant that remains furnished in Elvis Presley times and hundreds of photos on the walls are a reminder as we sit at a table with Elvis Presley, and his music is always in the background. Excellent service from a small snack to a full meal, and if you drink a coffee, you get to take the mug as a souvenir.

I must mention the incredible toilets that cater for many tour buses that stop there. Outside in the carpark are many Elvis reminders including a magnificent “gold” statue of “The King Of Rock n Roll)..this is a “must” visit.

As we may start our day very early and finish very late, I’m not suggesting sleeping time but for the record I have slept over several times at Yitzchak Rabin Youth hostel…which is nicely placed for restaurants and for leaving the city without being snarled in traffic.

So, after Elvis Inn we stay on #1 and travel east til we get to #90…with a few short stops on the way to take pictures. 6 stops for 5 minutes each should be enough….you will decide what pics you want,
and at the end of #1 we coffeesnack at the same place we were at on an earlier time. We look at our mapatlas and plan our trip north on #90.

(Very much more exciting than driving thru built-up areas surrounded by highrise buildings and shopping malls).

Louis the Scooterer is 69 years old and it sounds like he’s just getting started.

Epilogue – Bulimia

By Lindsay Tang

“Even though I’m finished with bulimia, it isn’t finished with me. I quit my bulimic habits over a year ago, but the health and social problems that came with my eating disorder still haunt me today”.

Being supervised by my thirteen-year old sister is weird because I’m one and a half times her age. It’s weirder that she’s supervising me going to the bathroom. Well, ok, she’s actually just waiting outside the stall. But I knew she would follow me, I knew she would wash her hands, and I knew she would linger. So I use the bathroom, open the door, and she’s just standing there casually. “What are you doing?” I ask, even though I know.

“Just waiting for you.”

“Oh. Ok.” And I’m not supposed to be mad at all, even though the situation is awkward and I can’t get any privacy when I’m just using the bathroom. It irritates me that this doesn’t happen when I go before lunch.

Rewind to late May when I’m so near death, I can brush it with my eyelashes. Jon and I are competing to lose weight and I can’t shake off his “It’s ok if you don’t lose as much weight as me, Lindsay; after all, I’m a guy” statement. I don’t like losing anything except for weight, twenty pounds of which disappears in a month and a half. But ten pounds in, it’s not about beating Jon’s ass and winning the $200 bet anymore. I stop wanting to look thinner. I start needing to look thinner.

I could look so amazing if I keep this up. I’m convinced, though, that it isn’t enough to just keep exercising and scraping by on water, hard-boiled egg whites, and salad (which is actually just lettuce and tomatoes…no dressing, croutons, or even corn because there are too many carbs in that). If I want to be tinier with every glance in the mirror, I’ll need a better strategy. So I become a double-barreled bulimic; I’m the purging type and the non-purging type. Purging is just a pleasant way of saying “self-induced vomiting.” It isn’t pleasant at all but people are convinced that I eat. Non-purging, also called exercise bulimia, is when I sweat off what little I’ve eaten and more. One website calls it “secretly vomiting,” but I think of it as added insurance.

I recommend bulimia for anyone self-deluded enough to ignore feeling like shit all the time. This bottle of aspirin must be full of placebos because my headaches won’t go away. The doctor is insane; I’m not overrunning and my knee and hip pains can’t be early signs of arthritis. My esophagus isn’t corroded. My voice isn’t raspy. I can keep getting away with this. It’ll be worth it. I feel fine. I’m not bulimic. And now I’m wailing my confession to Jon about having two types of bulimia and how much work it is to hide it and how I’m scared about not getting my period this month and I hate myself for developing bulimia in the first place and I need to stop it and I know I cheated and I’m sorry but I need to back out. And he says that’s fine. We’ll fix it together. Plus, he misses pizza.

For the next month, I only eat with Jon so he can be sure I relearn to eat healthfully. At first, I feel criminal for only exercising once a day and eating food that I can taste, but my complaints are short-lived.

It’s the end of July and I’m driving with Kelli. Kelli knows I helped stuff Jesse McCreery’s mailbox with defective donuts from the Krispy Kreme dumpster. I’m the only person she told when she backed into another car’s side door. Secrets are only fun if you have a best friend to share them with.

There’s a lull in the conversation before she says, “You never told me who won that thing between you and Jon.”
The saltiness of my fingertips floods my tongue and tickles my throat. “I called it off.”

“Really? Why?”

Shit. Lie, don’t lie, lie, don’t lie, lie, don’t lie, lie, don’t lie, don’t lie, why would you lie to your best friend, lie, lie, don’t lie, lie. “Because I became bulimic.”

“Oh Lindsay.” She turns her head from the road and looks right at me.

I’ve never heard Kelli say my name in a disappointed tone before. “But I’m ok now. Really! Jon and I worked through it and I’m fine.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. I believe you.”

Good. “Good.”

There are times when you should be honest. That wasn’t one of them.

Kelli calls the next afternoon and asks me to come outside because she’s parked on my driveway. She starts sobbing when she sees me. Crap. She says that she cried all day yesterday while researching bulimia and calling eating disorder hotlines. She doesn’t understand why I have a negative body image. She insists that I don’t need to lose weight. She is scared for me.

I am beyond pissed. Didn’t I tell her that I was fine? Why didn’t she believe me?

“Lindsay, you have to tell your parents.”

WHAT? “What? Why! It isn’t even a problem anymore. I don’t want them to worry over something that’s in the past.”

“I know, but they need to know.”

“No. No they don’t, actually.”

“Lindsay, if you don’t tell them, I’m telling them.” Shit. “If something happens to you and they find out I knew, I won’t be able to live with that. ” Since when was this about you, Kelli? “I’ll give you time to tell them. If you don’t do it within that timeframe, I’ll tell them. But don’t worry, I’ll warn you before I do it.”

You’ll warn me? Are you trying to strike a deal with me? I knew I should have lied.

“Fine.”

“I’m doing this for your own good, Lindsay. You’re my best friend and I care about you.” I don’t feel myself hug her back. Fuck you. If you really cared, you’d let it go.

Kelli never brings the subject up again. I forget about the incident and figure she has too. The “your-time-is-up-so-I’m-telling-on-you” ultimatum disintegrates into an empty threat. See, Lindsay, you can trust your friends.
I go back to school in September and don’t come home until October ends. I lost a few pounds by eating healthier and my family is happy for me. On the way to the airport that Sunday afternoon, my dad says, “You look great, honey, really, you do.”

That was random. “Thanks.”

“Uh, ok. This probably isn’t the best time to bring it up, but I need to ask. You didn’t lose weight by being bulimic, did you?”

Oh my God. “She TOLD you?”

“Lindsay, don’t be mad at her. She was really scared to tell me and your mom.”

I’m not mad at her. I’m furious at her. “When was this?”

“Right before you guys left for school.”

“And?”

“Well, she called and said she had something important to tell us. Your mom and I went to her house that night; I think you were out somewhere. Anyway, we went there and she was sitting in the living room with her parents. Kelli was crying because she wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing. She didn’t want to lose your friendship. It took her ten minutes to finally tell us.”

I’m crying too now, but not out of sympathy for Kelli. “What did you guys do?”

My dad’s tone of voice is still calm. “I didn’t want to believe it. Your mom didn’t say anything.”
I’m thankful when they let me walk through security with sunglasses on. I’m not looking forward to Thanksgiving anymore.

My parents have stayed together for me and my sister, but they still act like they’re divorced. They won’t stand next to each other in the few pictures they both agree to be in. Conversations between them inevitably become arguments. The word “your” is always bitterly emphasized when they say “your mom” or “your dad.” I don’t remember the last time they kissed, hugged, or smiled at each other. I didn’t want my parents to find out about my eating disorder and blame each other for it; they fight enough already.

“It’s your fault that Lindsay turned bulimic! You always pushed her too hard!”

“I did NOT push her too hard! I just wanted my daughter to grow up strong!”

“It didn’t matter if she was valedictorian or tennis team captain or a concert pianist or whatever! She was just never good enough for you.”

“At least I wasn’t babying her all the time like you were! It was your coddling that made her cave like that!”

Although I’ve accepted their chronically loveless marriage, it still hurts to hear my name involved in it. I doubt Kelli meant to give my parents another thing to argue about, but it’s easy to blame her anyway.

Even though I’m finished with bulimia, it isn’t finished with me. A common side effect that I suffer from is gastroesophageal reflux disease, where my gag-reflex fires involuntarily and my stomach contents come back up. This looks incredibly suspicious to people who know I have a history with bulimia.

I’m window-shopping with my mom after dinner one night when my stomach muscles tighten. Oh shit, not now. I squeeze my lips together right as liquefied pork loin and asparagus spill into my mouth. As she’s pointing out some copper cookware, I snatch the two-second opportunity to spit while she’s still distractedly eyeing that kettle. My mom is staring at me when I turn back around. “What was that?”

Damn. “Nothing.” She’s suddenly finished talking.

I’m looking at Christmas ornaments with my dad and sister a few days later. I can’t decide if this one is a gingerbread man or a really tan starfish when my stomach tightens again. This time is worse, though, because my stomach is empty of anything except acid. I imagine this is what it would be like to iron the inside of my throat with a pair of flaming soccer cleats.

I’m bent over like I’m trying to cough my throat out onto the floor (which I wouldn’t have minded) as the scorching gets worse and I’m pretty sure everyone in the store is staring by now so I’m scrambling outside because I saw a water fountain on the way in. Of course, the fountain doesn’t work. Fuck. I’m trying to calm down by taking deep breaths but the frozen air ironically makes the burning worse so I attempt to casually stroll into a nearby Johnny Rockets to ask in a horrifyingly raw voice for a glass of water. The girl smiles because she thinks I’m a chain smoker but fills a cup anyway and I thank her while trying to control myself because I’d gladly drink all 32 ounces in one gulp but I don’t want to look like a nut so I take a sip and step outside before downing the whole thing. My throat cools but it’s still itchy. My dad and sister are asking what happened and I say I coughed up acid, so we get ice cream to neutralize it. I claw maniacally at a frozen cylinder of Phish Food with a flimsy plastic spork the whole way home, where I finally microwave the block into submission. I’m halfway done when my stomach protests the unexpected influx of food by sending the ice cream back up (at least it doesn’t burn) and I’m running again, except this time to the nearest toilet.

Winter break then becomes a laborious game of avoiding anything that could make me look like I’m still bulimic. I don’t eat too much because I’ll vomit. I don’t eat too little because I’ll seem anorexic. I’m afraid of soda because burping can trigger refluxes. I snack on Tums between meals. Nothing sharp comes near my hands because cuts can be misinterpreted as bite marks. My workouts are light so I won’t lose weight. You may think that even if my parents didn’t know I used to be bulimic, they would still notice my reflux disorder. This is true but having unexplained gastroesophageal reflux disease is less worrisome than having it because of bulimia.

Kelli and I exchange Christmas gifts one night. I haven’t told her that I know she snitched on me, but she probably figured because I’ve barely spoken to her over the past two months. As she turns to leave, she asks, “Are we ok?”

No. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Ok.” She emails me the next day asking again and even though I know I should call, I just email her back. I insist it was unfair that she didn’t warn me and, in spite of her good intentions, my parents deserved to hear it from me or at least with my consent. I tell her I’ve lost my parents’ trust. I tell her she’s lost mine. I tell her not to respond because I will never believe anything she says again.

Kelli’s letter arrives at the end of January. The envelope reads “You don’t have to read this right now. You can open it tomorrow, next year, or in ten years. Just please don’t rip it up.” The letter lives under a stack of notebooks for a month.

Jon is watching me tear it open because I don’t want to be alone if I get upset. I don’t need to read the letter to know what it says. She’s sorry for lying from the start because she was never going to warn me. Her mom said I would understand if she told my parents. She’s sorry her mom was wrong about that. She hopes I can get over my body image problems and live a healthy life. She wishes me the best.

I’m still mad when I finish reading. Jon asks if it’s a good idea for me to end our friendship when she was just trying to help. I’m irked further and insist that I’m not going to talk to her for a while. Jon turns back to his laptop.

Brian makes the consensus official later that night. As my best guy friend, my boyfriend minus the romance, I call with the expectation that he’ll side with me like always. But he doesn’t respond when I finish. I’m afraid that I’ve created another Kelli situation. It’s useless, but I tell him not to worry anyway.

“I can’t help but worry, Lindsay.”

Not again. “I know, but you have to trust me on this. Kelli didn’t trust me and look how that turned out.”

“Are you sure you’re being fair? She was just trying to help.”

How do I always end up being the bad guy? I have no comeback and I’m tempted to hang up. “I know, ok?! I know!! But I’m fine; I wouldn’t be telling you this if I wasn’t, right?”

“I guess.” He’s silent. I decide to be silent from now on too.

The fear of alienating more people keeps me quiet. I can’t talk about it without getting mad because everyone thinks I’m being irrational for resenting Kelli. No one ever fails to mention that she was “just doing the right thing.” Yes, I already know that so CAN YOU JUST LET ME BE MAD NOW?? I’m mad that everyone is defending her. I’m madder that I’m not allowed to be mad.

I’m more frustrated than grateful that everyone is too concerned to trust me. I’m supposed to accept my regression to infancy. Babies wear diapers and require constant supervision because it’s not Lindsay’s fault that she can’t control her bulimia. I ask my dad why no one believes me when I say I’m not bulimic. He says they do believe me; they’re just making sure I’m ok. So no one believes me.

I despise the pity. I doubt that Kelli told anyone, but I flip through a mental yearbook anyway to vote for “Most Likely to Ask Me About It” at our high school reunion. I can already feel them placing their condescending hand on my shoulder as they whisper, “So I heard about your thing with bulimia,” to me like I’ve already died. I hate that I only hear the word “weight” when it is spelled w-a-i-t because people think I’ll relapse if the subject comes up. I’m even more insulted when I’m told that I “look fine” and that I’m “already beautiful just the way [I am].” When did I say I was fat? Bulimia didn’t blind me from reality. I’m not delusional and I can make accurate judgments. No one understands that “bulimic” is not a synonym for “mentally unsound.”

I’m reading the millionth “How I Overcame My Eating Disorder” story that I’ve read this year. Just like the others, it goes like this:

1. I was the fat kid and everyone made fun of me
2. I developed a negative body image
3. I became anorexic/bulimic/both
4. I was hospitalized after letting it go too far
5. I love my body now and I don’t own a scale and I eat whatever I want and life is normal again

It pisses me off that they all sound like that. It pisses me off that they all end like that. I hurl the magazine at the ground.

Writer Lindsay Tang is currently studying sociology and journalism at the University of
California, Los Angeles.