Some people are just stupid.

[Mack-Williams]

http://www.msnbc.com/news/963814.asp


CHARLES D. MCKINLEY, 25, was arrested and jailed on unrelated bad-check and traffic charges after his odyssey last weekend. Federal officials are considering additional charges of stowing away on a plane.
He startled his parents — and a deliveryman — when he broke out of the box outside their home Saturday.
“My husband asked him, ‘Man, what are you doing in this crate?’ He said he was coming home,” McKinley’s mother, who declined to provide her name, told KDFW-TV in Dallas.
Before setting out, McKinley filled out shipping instructions saying the crate held a computer and clothes. Authorities believe he had help from at least one co-worker at the warehouse where he works in New York when he loaded himself in the box.
The box was trucked from New York’s Kennedy Airport to Newark, N.J., where it was loaded onto a plane operated by Kitty Hawk Cargo. The plane stopped in Niagara Falls, N.Y., and the carrier’s hub in Fort Wayne, Ind., before going to Dallas, the FBI said.
A driver for Pilot Air Freight saw a pair of eyes in the crate when he went to unload it outside McKinley’s parents’ home in DeSoto, a Dallas suburb. He thought it was a body, but McKinley broke the box open and crawled out, said police Lt. Brian Windham.
McKinley said on Wednesday’s “Today” show that he was already “scared and nervous” when he was nailed into the crate.
“This is the dumbest thing and the craziest thing I could ever do within my life,” he added. “I was short of cash and truthfully I really should’ve waited.”
The crate was carried in a pressurized, heated area, but could just as easily have been placed in the lower, unpressurized holds, said Richard G. Phillips, chief executive of Pilot Air Freight.
“He could easily have died,” Phillips said.
The freight cost — billed to McKinley’s employer — was $550. At that rate, “he could have flown first-class,” Phillips said.
McKinley told KXAS-TV in Dallas that he made the trip as cargo because he was homesick and a friend thought he could save money. McKinley said he took no food or water on the 15-hour journey.
Lax security for some air cargo
Federal officials want to know how the stowaway bypassed airport security. Air cargo receives less federal security attention than passenger planes, in part because of its sheer volume, and critics have suggested that terrorists could use cargo flights as weapons.
“It certainly shows that we have more work to do on cargo security,” Asa Hutchinson, the Homeland Security Department’s undersecretary for transportation security, told ABC’s “Good Morning America.”

[ September 10, 2003, 02:10 PM: Message edited by: Mack-Williams ]

['Magic' Juan]

DUMBASS OF THE MONTH:

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/graphics/art3/crateguy1.jpg

magic_juan

[richierich]

Well actuallty they are the dumdasses...He could've been a terrorist jumped out of the case and started killing people on the cargo plane took the plane and crashed it into anything..he made them look like fools.

[ September 10, 2003, 02:15 PM: Message edited by: richierich ]

[MYOR]

icon_rofl.gif graemlins/rofl.gif You figure why the hell didn't he just wait till they damn delivery guy left.. He was boxed in there so long.. what a few more minutes graemlins/stupid.gif

[daniel]

i've had the velvet underground's "the gift" playing in my head for the past three days.

[Gojay]

But he has the feds wondering how many more people have done this and what they shipped.

We're not as safe as we think!


peace,
gojay

[Mack-Williams]

Originally posted by richierich:
Well actuallty they are the dumdasses...He could've been a terrorist jumped out of the case and started killing people on the cargo plane took the plane and crashed it into anything..he made them look like fools. Both are dumbasses.

[Mack-Williams]

I always thought they scanned cargo boxes or had dogs sniffing out the boxes for drugs etc.

[richierich]

They scan and check 10% of the packages. I wonder what freight company it was. They didn't even discover him until the delivery guy was taking the package to the door. The delivery guy saw the mans eyes through an opening and called the cops. You got cats working at these places that just worry about when lunch and punch out time is..what a joke. He charged it to the company he workd for.

[alex zen]

reminds me of the velvet underground's gift

The Gift

Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit.
It was now mid-August which meant that he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months.
Two months, and all he had to show were three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone calls.
True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin and he to Locust, Pennsylvania she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity.
She would date occasionally, but merely as amusement.
She would remain faithful. But lately Waldo had begun to worry.
He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams.
He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his printed quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes,
As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothings of some Neanderthal,
Finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.

Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him.
Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts.
And the thing was, they wouldn't understand who she really was.
He, Waldo, alone, understood this.
He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche.
He had made her smile, and she needed him, and he wasn't there. (Awww.)
The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers Parade was scheduled to appear.
He had just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar-fifty
And had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha.
There was nothing more than a circular form the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awning needs.
At least they cared enough to write.

It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in
the mails. Then it struck him: he didn't have enough
money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion,
true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly
simple. He would ship himself parcel post special
delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket
to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought
masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized
cardboard box, just right for a person of his build.
He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could
ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, a
selection of midnight snacks, and it would probably be
as good as going tourist.

By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly
packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up
at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "FRAGILE"
and as he sat curled up inside, resting in the foam
rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried
to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marsha's
face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped
the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo
finally there in person. She would kiss him, and then
maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of
this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package
and he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thud
in a truck and then he was off.

Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It
had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember
not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it
though. After it was over he'd said that he still
respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way
of nature and even though no, he didn't love her, he
did feel an affection for her. And after all, they
were grown adults. Oh, what Bill could teach Waldo --
but that seemed many years ago. Sheila Klein, her
very, very best friend walked in through the porch
screen door into the kitchen. "Oh God, it's
absolutely maudlin outside."
"Ugh, I know what you mean, I feel all icky." Marsha
tightened the belt on her cotton robe with the silk
outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt
grains on the kitchen table, licked her finger and
made a face.
"I'm supposed to be taking these salt pills, but," she
wrinkled her nose, "they make me feel like throwing
up."
Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an
exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even
talk about that." She got up from the table and went
to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and
blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than
steak." And attempted to touch her knees. "I don't
think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up
and sat down, this time nearer the small table that
supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill'll call," she
said to Sheila's glance.
Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I
thought maybe you'd be through with him."
"I know what you mean. My God, he was like an
octopus. Hands all over the place." She gestured,
raising her arms upward in defense. "The thing is
after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you
know, and after all he didn't really do anything
Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you
know what I mean." She started to scratch. Sheila
was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell
you, I felt the same way, and even after a while," she
bent forward in a whisper, "I wanted to," and now she
was laughing very loudly.

It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence
Darrow Post Office rang the door bell of the large
stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson
opened the door, he helped her carry the package in.
He had his yellow and his green slips of paper signed
and left with a fifteen-cent tip that Marsha had
gotten out of her mothers small beige pocket book in
the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked.
Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. S
he stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in
the middle of the living room. "I don't know."

Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement as
he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her
fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the
center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the
return address and see who it is from?" Waldo felt
his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating
footsteps. It would be soon.

Marsha walked around the carton and read the
ink-scratched label. "Ugh, God, it's from Waldo!"
"That schmuck," said Sheila. Waldo trembled with
expectation. "Well, you might as well open it," said
Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the stapled flap.

"Ahh, shit," said Marsha groaning. "He must have
nailed it shut." They tugged at the flap again. "My
God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened."
They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!" They
both stood still, breathing heavily.
"Why don't you get the scissors," said Sheila. Marsha
ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a
little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her
father kept a collection of tools in the basement.
She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had a
large sheet-metal cutter in her hand.
"This is the best I could find." She was very out of
breath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna die." She sank
into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily.
Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape
and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too
big and there wasn't enough room. "Godamn this
thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then,
smiling, "I got an idea."
"What?" said Marsha.
"Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her
head.

Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with
excitement that he could barely breathe. His skin
felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart
beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila
stood quite upright and walked around to the other
side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees,
grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath
and plunged the long blade through the middle of the
package, through the middle of the masking tape,
through the cardboard, through the cushioning and
(thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers head,
which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs
of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun.

[Chris Conrad]

bullsh*t...please tell me you all don't think all the new laws are really about
terrorism...http://abcnews.go.com/sections/wnt/Primetime/sept11_uranium030910.html

my father works for a well known cargo compnay, has for the last 25 years or so. every week he would have crazy stories for us of what they used to find being shipped, and how most of the time when it was reported nobody really gave a damn. weapons, drugs, radioactive material, bags of treasury money...he once showed me pictures of several bags of treasury money that fell out of a shipment, that went unclaimed to this day...up until several years ago, i used to be able to walk into the airport with him and go sit in airplane cockpits for his company's planes...he also had an all access airport id and we would get into basically anywhere in the airport, no questions asked. several times, being young and stupid, i used his id on his off days to roam around the airport, and i was never questioned. i used to use the employee parking lot, which is right next to the runway and planes, to leave my car using his id when goign away on trips to get free parking. i would take the employee bus to the terminals and c hat with pilots and airport employees. things are much tighter now, but half this stuff still goes on.

a good friend of mine is a courier for another shipping company. recently, the DEA visited his facility requesting aid in identifying suspiscious packages and possible narcotics shipments. when he questioned them why, they told him they were understaffed and cannot do anything about cargo shipments. when he made a smartass comment that maybe they should investigate our own government for drug smuggling, he was questioned and then disciplined by the company...

if they really wanted to end access like this, they could do it today, right now...all they have rally succeeded in doing is getting a bunch of innocent pasenegrs with certian ames put on a blacklist and now those people are detained every time they fly. this included reporters and religious leaders who led anti war protests.