Home » Magazine Archives » May 2006
Security Technology and Design
Most Read
Most Emailed
E-mail Article
Print Article
The Changing Threat
Have you had your threat checkup this year?The Latest from SIW
TSA's 'behavior detection' draws scrutiny in light of few arrests Survey: National security a bigger issue prior to economic crisis Eye on Video: Specialized intelligent video applications Walden Security acquires Admiral's Atlanta division Saudi-owned oil tanker hijacked The security week that was: 11/14/08
By John McCumber
Security Technology & Design
Dateline: March. Chicago O'Hare International Airport.
As I took the long linoleum march through O'Hare today, I walked past the display of World War II aircraft that had been flown by the famed aviator from whom this airport takes it name. Some of the pictures and gear on display reminded me of my father and took me back to my childhood. I found myself musing about an incident long ago ...
Five minutes before our geography class, Miss Pearson dispatched my friend Chuck and me to the audio/visual supply room to retrieve a filmstrip projector. As we made our way to the disorderly AV closet, preparing to trundle the now laughably antiquated device back to the room on its large, battleship-grey, two-shelf rolling cart, we noticed a door ajar at the end of the hallway.
It was a door neither of us had ever seen anyone enter. It was always locked, and it wasn't labeled, so we assumed it was a broom closet. But we were 10-year-old boys, and our curiosity quickly got the jump on our discretion. We abandoned our assignment and headed for the door, pushing it open to reveal a dark stairwell. We called down. Echoes. No answer.
After a shared look and a mischievous grin, we switched on the light and jumped back, preparing to be accosted. A single bare bulb above the door jamb illuminated a metal staircase descending into darkness. Soon, the buzz and click of awakening fluorescents emerged from the shadowy gloom below, and lights grudgingly came to life. We peered down the stairs into a room filled with boxes, cardboard barrels, electronic gear, and even some helmets. We just had to investigate.
Chuck and I decided that he would stay up by the door. We had to concoct a plausible story should we be discovered. We also had to ensure a passing janitor wouldn't secure the door, only to open it three years later to discover two kid-sized skeletons in rat-gnawed school uniforms.
I descended the steps with trepidation and scanned the subterranean room from the first landing. The line of large boxes stretched into the darkness beyond. Soon I recognized a common trait among the supplies. They each sported a familiar triangle design with the letters CD inside.
I remembered seeing that logo each time we had a nuclear attack drill at school. After the siren had sounded through the school's public address system, we would crouch beneath our desks awaiting the terrible missiles the Soviets would be sending to our town in Illinois . The person assigned to give our classroom the “all clear” always wore a helmet that bore that same triangle marked CD: Civil Defense.
