Your Inconclusive, Multinational Guide to Fruit Gel Candies

Matt Freeman

 

Chuckles

Roughly every couple of months, my sister and I would hop into the back seat of our car, headed to the airport. We were not usually travelling ourselves, but instead collecting my father from a business trip or friends and relatives visiting from out of town. The car ride was long, bumpy, and our family Audi caught on fire during one instance.

Relief would ensue at the airport parking garage. My sister and I would beg our mother to park “at the far end,” so as to maximize travel distance and hijinks on moving sidewalks.

As much as I liked the planes, the airport was a dark, tedious place. The ceilings were low, the light was dim, and there were limited options for little kids. Indeed, the airport had just handful of uninspiring shops, a shoe shine, and nothing else.

In order to pass the time and keep us occupied, my mother would take us to the one shop, and she would treat us to the forbidden luxury of candy. We almost never had candy at home, but the tedium of the airport (or flaming car) warranted a special treat. She picked out the one candy that would be a dream for little kids: Chuckles. These are still for sale: painfully sweet, rectangular gelatin gums that had only an imaginary fruit flavor. The bright, colorful package screamed to children. The payout was more the luxury of forbidden candy rather than the Chuckles themselves.

Chuckles

The grim truth is that Chuckles were awful. They were sticky and flavorless. In fact, their name and their “googly” eyes on the package were their best assets. Lousy candy be damned, my sister and I and started referring to the potholes on the decaying airport highway as “chuck-holes” either due to undeveloped language skills or a bit of childhood irony.

Fortunately, Chuckles turned out to be the tip of the fruit gel iceberg.

By “fruit gel,” I refer to a species of sugar-dusted fruit-flavored candy. Fruit gels are softer than stickier fruit candies like Starburst. They are larger than Nerds or Skittles. There is no chocolate coating, and the candy holds its own shape unlike Japanese gelatin candies that are prepared in tiny cups. Furthermore, fruit gels are not gummy bears. The bears are firmer, have no sugar coating, and have a shinier finish.

 

Sunkist Fruit Gems

My sister, who was taller and perhaps more outspoken, spotted Chuckles’ rounder relatives. She found “Sunkist Fruit Gems” high on the shelf near the cashier at the local deli.

Like Chuckles, fruit Gems are also still in circulation. They offer the unconvincing promise of a genuine fruit content. The Sunkist company, after all, cultivates citrus fruits. The individually wrapped circular candies imply natural orange and lemon slices. The package advertises that five real fruit juices are contained. Based on taste alone, one must assume that the dose of juice is homeopathic. A bit of web searching revealed that the “gems” are manufactured by Jelly Belly, not the Sunkist fruit company.

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Sunkist Fruit Gems were significantly less impressive than Chuckles: gummy, flavorless, with pointless sugar dusting. Moreover, Fruit Gems required exceptional effort: one had to unwrap each piece of candy, forcing delayed gratification. Chuckles won the battle for immediate access; both Chuckles and Fruit Gems were fairly dull.

To this day, Trader Joe’s sells its own version of Fruit Gems: comparatively flavorless and plastered with white sugar. The TJ’s versions are square, but they are otherwise the same as the Sunkist variety.

 

The Holy Version

Fruit slices are not kosher. Gelatin is usually derived from animal products, making products like gelatin desserts and gel candies off limits. As with just about every law of kashrut, there are work-arounds.

We invariably observed Pesach (Passover) with another family. One year, I noticed something astonishing on the other family’s dining room table: fruit gels. Not just gels; these were semicircular, multicolored fruit “slices” designated as kosher for Passover.

In a swift reconnaissance mission, I gained access to the sealed box. It advertised, “Made with Potato Starch!” (I cannot be absolutely certain of the exclamation mark, but it seems appropriate.)

The Peach candy was in limited supply. There were perhaps only ten or twelve slices in the box, so it was impossible to source a piece unnoticed. The candy was packaged like jewelry: an oversized white container, displaying each sparkly fruit gel slice beneath a plastic sheen. They appeared valuable, scarce, and had the added curiosity of “potato starch.”

Deprived of the Pesach fruit slices as a child, I eventually came across them as a teenager. In a neglected Passover display at the supermarket, I found the rare fruit slices. I sat down at the table, preparing for a euphoric plunge into sweet bliss. As one could have imagined, the excitement of the kosher fruit slices was modest. The sacred Passover candy tasted exactly like something made of “potato starch” and “both natural and artificial flavors.”

 

Fruit Slices

After the unsatisfying kosher incident, I learned that the Passover fruit slices had a non-kosher cousin. The tref fruit slices could be found in the back corners of candy shops. Others could feast on boiled sweets, caramels, and waxy milk chocolate. The decent candy shops had drawers of “bulk” fruit slices: lemon, watermelon, lime, and orange were standard. The shops with better stock would offer coconut, grape, raspberry, and grapefruit. The shops sometimes identified these by the manufacturer, “Boston Fruit Slices.”

The genuine fruit slices had a certain heft: one could not easily consume the entire slice in one bite. The firmer “rind” had a layer of faux white pith. The interior flesh had a firmness, requiring one to chew, savor, and treasure the flavor. Each slice was an eruption of sweet and sour. The acid of lemon or grapefruit would give way to a dense, smooth sugary finish.

The flavor was more authentic than Chuckles, the texture more inviting than the “potato starch”-infested kosher version. In a delicious transgression of religious law, the genuine fruit slices were miraculous.

slicesThe taste was not entirely natural. Lemon, grapefruit, and orange were convincingly similar to the fruit found in nature. Watermelon, grape, and lime bore little resemblance to the actual fruit, but rather resembled the imaginary flavors found in soda and candy. The flavor, for example, was rich with the taste of lime. It was not at all like the lime that grows on trees; it was a perfect, rounded, floral taste of lime candy.

Fruit slices are not shelf stable. They become hardened, crusty. Their flavor is overshadowed by coagulated sugar. The soft gelatin is too fragile for heat, air, or moisture. Consequently, candy shops often declined to stock them.

It turned out that there was one reliable source: the Philadelphia Airport. I was commuting back and forth between San Francisco and Raleigh, and my flights would often transit Philadelphia. I stumbled upon “Lick,” a candy shop that turned out to be the mecca of fruit slices. Lick had a wall of magnificent candy slices. Forget the usual orange and lemon. Lick’s plastic cabinets overflowed with green apple, mango, and pink grapefruit, and mandarin.  During my quick layovers in Philadelphia, I would stock up, exercising extreme strength not to consume the entire bag on the short onward flight.

 

For the Gourmet: Pâtes des Fruits

New and tempting fruit gel opportunities emerge as one travels. A patisserie in Paris was my first introduction to pâtes de fruits. A sane gourmet would head for an éclair or religieuse. No way. Off on a corner shelf, a tray of neatly sliced “fruit pastes” caught my attention. These are smaller than fruit slices, perhaps half the size, but the flavor is doubled. Pâtes de fruits are intense, strong, and passionate. A bite in to a pâte is to experience the nuclear option of fruit candies. The taste of blackcurrant, plum, or raspberry is unworldly.

Although neighborhood patisseries sometimes offer pâtes de fruits, the poshest versions are for sale at Fauchon. If one is not headed to the flagship store at Place de la Madeleine, Fauchon pâtes de fruits are for sale—where else?—the airport. The “Buy Paris Collection” Duty Free at Charles de Gaulle Airport invariably has them for sale. Akin to my childhood airport trips, Terminal One at Charles de Gaulle is a dim, filthy place. But a dip into the box of Fauchon joy will make any delay or inconvenience palatable.

An American version, made by Oregon Berries is worthy competition for Fauchon. The tiny Oregonian versions pack even stronger flavor than their gourmet French cousins.

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Although I could suggest that pâtes de fruits won the Fruit Gel Olympics, it is perhaps unfair to compare fruit slices with pâtes de fruits. They are—sorry—apples and oranges. Fruit slices—like those at Lick—are larger, heavier, and sold in extensive varieties. Les pâtes are not a filling snack but more of a flavor “experience.”

 

The Avoidable: Turkish Delight and Wine Gums

Turkish food is brilliant: pides, sütlaç, ayvalik tostu. But stay clear of the local version of fruit gels: Turkish delight. Although it sounds good in the novels of J.K. Rowling and C.S. Lewis, it is a sickly sweet, bland, powdered sugar mess with the unfortunate addition of rose water. Maybe it tastes better at Hogwarts or in Narnia.

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Washingtonians have their own undesirable concoction: Applets and Cotlets. Although less repulsive than rosewater, these are flavored with apricots and apples. In theory, the taste should be perfect, but Applets and Cotlets are dense and flavorless. They have the unfortunate addition of walnuts. Above all, their geometry and powdered sugar coating make them dangerously similar to their miserable Turkish kin.

In the UK and Canada, an equally unpleasant option awaits: wine gums. These taste exactly as they sound: the taste of an unreasonably sweet dessert wine encapsulated in a tooth-rotting gum. It is a taste similar to cough syrup-like port or Manischewitz, but it is somehow impossible to wash the flavor down. Wine gums come in different colors, representing different varieties of wine. I am no sommelier, but the “wine” are indistinguishable.

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Both Turkish delight and wine gums have their devotees, but I suspect this is due to inexperience rather than truly bad taste. One cannot sink one’s teeth into a perfect mango fruit slice then backpedal into the dreary, cloying blandness of Turkish delight.

 

Access

It seems counter-intuitive, but the European gourmet candies are easier to find than the American version. Pâtes de fruits are available from internet suppliers or by flying to France.

Fruit slices, however, present a challenge. Candy shops on the internet seem to sell these in three forms: the useless “mini slices” (what is the point?), variety assortments with only a handful of the least interesting flavors, or in absurd bulk supplies of single flavors. Access to the lush pear or red apple slices requires a trip to the Philadelphia Airport.

Turkish delight, Fruit Gems, and Chuckles are best located in a dumpster.

 

Should you find yourself at a Parisian patisserie or enduring a delay at the Philadelphia Airport, exploit the opportunity to indulge. If your fruit candy experience has been limited to wine gums or Fruit Gems, broaden your horizons and try pâtes des fruits. You will not be disappointed.

©2019

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Flying off the Wagon

Matt Freeman
2 February 2018

The former patients discussed in this article are real; their names are pseudonyms.

Robert shifted in his chair. His blood pressure was a bit higher than normal, his complexion ruddy, and his eyes were somewhat bloodshot. I had already seen his blood work. Two of his liver enzymes were above normal, the average size of his red blood cells was higher than what one might expect. It was hardly a diagnostic conundrum. The 52-year-old man in my office was almost certainly an alcoholic.

I followed a careful, nonthreatening path in our conversation. I asked about sleep, stress, depression, and finally alcohol. He evaded the topic by saying he was a “social drinker.”

In a somewhat sneaky but effective maneuver, I examined his liver. As I let my hand slip beneath his right lower ribs, I asked, “Do you find yourself drinking more than you should?” It was as if he thought I could feel the bottle caps and wine corks in his abdomen. “Yes,” he replied. “I mean a lot.”

Once he was off the exam table and we could talk face to face, Robert assured me that he would never drink on duty. And he would never violate the 12-hour “bottle to throttle” rule. He is a captain, flying Airbus jets for one of the largest airlines in the world.

He had little difficulty “passing” his routine medical examinations to keep his license. He knew which medical examiners would ask the fewest questions, thereby ensuring that both the doctor and the pilot would maintain job security.

Stripes

“So many of us drink.” Robert was sullen. “You’re alone in some hotel room. There is no way to unwind. It just becomes a habit. More than a habit.”

Robert is not alone.

Air travel and alcohol abuse have a longstanding partnership. Higher-risk drinking has been described as a “silent epidemic” among passengers and crew alike.

The liquor culture of air transportation is due in part to economics.

During the 1970s, airfares on US airlines were regulated by the Civil Aeronautics Board. Since the airlines could not compete on price, they competed with service. Alcohol was often cornerstone of competition. Jumbo jets were fitted with bars in both economy and first classes, Delta Air Lines began offering complimentary champagne, and National Airlines offered complimentary alcohol of any kind. Eastern Air Lines described complimentary alcohol as “unconscionable,” but market forces drove them to offer free booze as well.

American Airlines pioneered the Bloody Mary. Viewed as a socially acceptable cocktail for the morning, passengers consumed the vodka-laced tomato juice with zeal. American reportedly turned the bottlers of Mr. and Mrs. T. Bloody Mary Mix into millionaires.

Bloody Mary

Mechanics at American noticed that some of their planes were sustaining daily gouges to their cabin walls. The source of the damage turned out to be from bar carts jamming into the wall. The crew were serving liquor so early during a flight’s ascent that they could only stop the carts effectively by letting them jam into the wall.

In 1972, Southwest Airlines engaged in an airfare war with a competitor. Passengers were offered the opportunity to purchase a ticket for $13 or pay $26 for the plane ticket and receive a bottle Chivas Regal scotch whiskey. More than three quarters of the passengers chose to pay double and buy the bottle of whiskey as well as the plane ticket, making Southwest the largest distributor of Chivas in Texas.

chivas

In the post-deregulation era, alcohol continued to serve as a selling point. Airlines compete by offering complimentary liquor. In business and first classes, air carriers feature sommeliers, who have selected finer wines for their higher-paying guests. On the ground, open bars welcome passengers in airline lounges. Industry consultants have noted that passengers will sometimes select an airline based on its liquor policy.

Forty-four years after its free Chivas offer, Southwest Airlines was still unabashed by its promotion of tipsy flying. Passengers on a three hour, twenty-minute flight from Oakland to Kansas City earned an announcement of congratulations from the captain. The passengers had emptied out all of the bar carts on the airplane.

The “high life” of champagne and Scotch whiskey above the clouds can often have a dark side.

Hugh, 52, travels for 40 weeks per year. As a salesperson, he dines out at least three nights per week. At sales dinners, he typically has a few glasses of wine followed by a few glasses of Scotch. That is three times the recommended alcohol intake from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) guidelines. When Hugh boards a flight to his next destination, he usually has a Scotch prior to takeoff, and wine, beer, or whiskey in flight based on the length of the flight.

Although he came to see me for a routine physical exam, Hugh conceded that he is unhappy with his life.  He is frustrated by his weight, poor sleep, lost sex drive, and lack of emotional connection to his wife. Unlike Robert, Hugh was not ready to talk. He never returned to have his blood drawn. I suspect he will find a primary care provider who will ask fewer questions. Perhaps he will just forego seeing a doctor entirely.

Frequent flyer like Hugh, the so-called “mobile elite,” can be predisposed to problematic drinking. Studies of the frequent flyers have yielded a profile of passengers who socially isolated. While flying around the country or the globe, passengers like Hugh may lack the opportunity to engage in collective activities, and they may have frayed friendships. Relationships can become unequal: the frequent traveler may be away so often that he or she cannot participate equally in household chores, child-rearing, etc. Despite higher incomes and access to healthcare, this population is not in good shape.

TagsIn some respects, the airlines enable Hugh and travelers like him. Catherine, 41, pours Scotch for passengers like Hugh. Catherine has been a flight attendant since she was 21. With two decades of seniority, she often finds herself rostered for her favorite trips: business class to Frankfurt. I met Catherine after an accident that occurred while she was off duty. She fell on the steps outside her apartment. Her blood alcohol content was 0.18 percent when it was measured in the emergency department. (Loss of consciousness can start at 0.2 percent; death at 0.5 percent.)

Dodging questions about alcohol, Catherine laughed as she describes her recipe for “crew juice.” This is a nickname for a punch made of any variety of combinations of liquor pilfered from the bar cart. Binge drinking—with “crew juice” or another source—is part the routine.

Getting drunk is not just an accident; it is an expectation.

Tina, 50, a senior flight attendant, complained that her employer sometimes lodged its crews in the same hotels as its passengers. “We can’t get drunk at the hotel bar,” she complained. Getting drunk, as far as Tina was concerned, was part of the itinerary.

Amanda Pieva, a journalist and flight attendant, wrote of the silent epidemic of alcoholism among crews. “We drink to help ourselves sleep when work disrupts our body clocks, and we drink when we run into long lost friends on our travels. While social drinking is the norm in society as a whole, it is amplified in the airline industry.”

Pieva continues, “The industry creates many alcoholics, most of whom are functional.” Since alcoholism is so widespread, Pieva argues that it has been normalized, and therefore not a topic of discussion.

Minis

Although Catherine appeared to be in denial, her drinking habits were unexceptional in her environment. Data from airline pilot surveys have shown that crews do not necessarily have a greater prevalence of alcoholism than the general population, but they tend to over-estimate the number of drinks required to become intoxicated. There was no pattern related to the type of aircraft flown nor the number of years of experience.

Pieva wrote, “Every single pilot or flight attendant I’ve talked to about this with adamantly agrees that alcohol abuse is a silent epidemic among us.”

The consequences of the silent epidemic are both short- and long-term, affecting both crew and passengers.

  • In 2016 security staff smelled alcohol on a United Airlines pilot at Glasgow. A blood test taken two hours after his removal from the flight showed blood alcohol content more than double the upper limit.
  • In 2013, a Pakistani pilot was imprisoned in the UK. His blood alcohol content was more than three times the normal limit He confessed to drinking three-quarters of a bottle of whiskey prior to the flight.
  • In 2002, two America West pilots were ordered to taxi back to the terminal. Both were convicted of drunk flying.
  • Alcohol was implicated in two fatal accidents in the former Soviet Union in 2011 and 2012.

Intoxicated passengers can pose a danger to themselves and others. In at least one documented instance, a passenger died during an otherwise survivable aircraft evacuation. His blood alcohol content was 0.24 percent. He had not even unfastened his seatbelt. the passenger who died was only one fatality. His alcohol-induced incapacitation could have easily impeded the evacuation of other passengers and crew.

A BAC of 0.24 percent is the equivalent of about ten drinks in a 160-pound man. If that seems like a lot, one investigator was served 12 drinks during a 90-minute flight.

The rise in “air rage” incidents is multifactorial, but alcohol has been implicated in at least 45 percent of reported disruptive passenger incidents. These disruptions can range from quiet disregard for safety to diversion of a flight. Surveys of airline passengers found that those who stated that they intend to consume alcohol on board were twice as likely to agree to the statement, “I rarely or never wear a seatbelt.” In more extreme circumstances, intoxicated passengers have engaged in obscene behavior, destroyed aircraft equipment, and threatened the safety of passengers and crew.

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Passenger misconduct is widely deemed to be under-reported. An estimated one in 140,000 passengers engage in some form of misconduct per year. Up to one in a million are reported to have been involved in serious misconduct. This appears to be statistically infrequent until one considers that 650 million passengers fly annually. That is 650 cases of severe misconduct per year, and a little fewer than half of those cases have an alcohol component. At minimum, that is just under two serious alcohol-related misconduct incidents per day.

The risk persists after landing. In 2006, a passenger boarded a flight already intoxicated. He then purchased and drank two Jack Daniels “minis” on board a flight from Phoenix to Albuquerque. After landing, he drove from the airport, killing five in a motor vehicle crash. He died some hours later with a blood alcohol content of 0.32 percent.

Travel has been described as “situational disinhibition.” Airline passengers might engage in behavior that would otherwise seem uncharacteristic.

Alcohol itself reduces inhibition, and the combined forces can mean that passenger are less guarded. Binge drinking can be the start of a cascade of health-compromising behavior.

Studies of international travelers found that 20 percent of international travelers engaged in casual sexual relations while abroad. This applied to all types of travelers (business, leisure, family). A study of Belgians working overseas found that 51 percent of male workers had extramarital sex with local women, 31 percent with a commercial sex worker, and only 25 percent of almost 2,000 men in the study reported using a condom.

Alcohol intensifies the risk. Women who binge drink are five times more likely to contract gonorrhea, and report more sexual partners than women who consume alcohol in moderation.

The combined disinhibition from alcohol and the air travel environment can catalyze violence.

Sara Nelson, president of the Association of Flight Attendants, cited a lack of cabin staff, dark quarters, and alcohol as factors that can lead passengers to commit sexual assault. Although the proclivity to commit such an offense might exist on the ground, the aircraft cabin or the hotel away from home can provide the environment and the opportunity.

Onboard assault cases are hard to track: some are reported to local police, some to the FBI. The FBI reported 40 investigations opened in 2015, 58 investigations during the first half of 2016. The FBI acknowledges that about 75 percent of assaults are unreported.

There is no single tracking mechanism for inflight assaults, and flight crews do not receive training in the management of these situations. The crew have the burden of reporting disruptive behavior, but there is no box to tick for sexual assault.

Furthermore, reporting can be abbreviated or lost on international flights, where foreign law enforcement officials are involved.

Hooters AirDefunct Hooters Air: the ultimate combination of sexism, alcohol, and flying.

Flight attendants who have been assaulted are often unwilling to report the crime, “They’re not going to stop the plane. And then everyone’s going to be mad at you; you’re not a team player, you’re difficult” stated former flight attendant and assault victim Lanelle Henderson.

Henderson and others described assaults not just by passengers but by other crew members. Stories of intoxicated pilots assaulting flight attendants are common but rarely reported.

Male crew are not exempt from harassment. A flight attendant for JetBlue described frequent unwanted comments about the “Mile High Club,” and being grabbed or touched inappropriately by male and female passengers.

Sara Nelson described the notion that passengers can feel “out of the public eye” and therefore somehow get away with abusive behavior that they would otherwise eschew. The disinhibiting effects of alcohol combined with an altered sense of self can lead to behavior that can range from indecorous to criminal

Nelson described a conversation overheard by a coworker:

“When can we get some drinks around here, honey?’” asked several male passengers. While the flight attendant was still in earshot, “You can probably get sued for calling someone ‘honey’ nowadays.”

Although one could argue that these passengers could be chauvinists without alcohol, one can assume that alcohol diminishes or silences their superegos. In a service industry in which “the customer is always right,”  passengers under the influence may feel somehow more entitled to be verbally or sexually abusive.

There is little incentive from the air transportation industry to restrict alcohol sales and consumption. In fact, restriction can affect profits. Irish low-cost airline Ryanair requested that airports limit alcohol to two drinks per person, and that airports ban serving alcohol before 10:00 am. Another low-cost carrier, Jet2 of the UK, stopped alcohol on morning flights.

Ryanair

Passengers resented the restrictions, claiming that the airlines had ruined their holidays. As one passenger put it, “Unless you’re being rowdy there’s no need [for a crackdown.]”

Airports that were affected by Ryanair’s restrictions claimed that the air carrier was really just attempting to increase its own inflight liquor sales. Moreover, airports depend on alcohol-mediated disinhibition to boost retail and duty free sales.

The duty free shop also provides a method to circumvent airline restrictions. Airline companies are reportedly inconsistent in their enforcement of company policies banning the consumption of alcohol that is not served by the airline crew. Passengers can stop by the duty free shop, even purchasing small liquor “minis” and secret them in their hand baggage for inflight consumption.

DutyFree

On flights with complimentary liquor, or in first and business class, there can be outcry from passengers who feel entitled to maximize their intake. First class passengers on American Airlines began tracking whether or not they were offered the alcoholic drink of their choice before the airplane had pushed back from the gate. They scorned flights in which they were offered water or orange juice, even though the flight had not even taken off. American had to post reminders to its crews to offer passengers their own (usually alcoholic) choice of drinks.

Robert did well. The last time I saw him he had been sober for close to a year, he was taking antidepressants, seeing a therapist, and feeling much healthier. But what about his coworkers who have not sought care? What measures can be taken for passengers and crew members to mitigate the “silent epidemic?”

Given the profits from serving liquor, airline companies and airport owners are unlikely to engage in meaningful efforts to encourage responsible drinking. There are no simple answers to curtail the epidemic and its consequences. At least a few interventions could incite a larger social movement.


1. Educate

There are a wide variety of web sites and magazines devoted to leisure and business travel. These are often found in airport lounges, hotels, or delivered to the homes of some credit card recipients.

Articles about quantifying alcohol intake, understanding limits, and recognizing problematic or addictive behavior could be both interesting and useful to readers.

Print and internet media could also offer lists of resources, such as Alcoholics Anonymous, therapists and addiction specialists may wish to advertise, there could even be support from organizations such as Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD).

For crew members, a review of blood alcohol content, the risks in the air and on the ground, and skills for working with intoxicated passengers and crew should be a part of initial and recurrent training.

Likewise, the airlines and their unions should reinforce alcohol abuse as a public health issue over a disciplinary concern so that those affected may be more like to seek help.

2. Include Airports, Lounges, and Hotels in Interventions

Since alcohol served on the ground before, during, and after flights contributes to the epidemic, those serving alcohol should be educated on polite but effective techniques for intoxicated patrons, such as “Distract, Delay, Dilute, and Deny.”

3. Institute Bystander Training for Airline Crews

In response to Title IX lawsuits pertaining to sexual assault on college campuses, many colleges and universities have introduced “bystander training.” These brief courses encourage confidence to intervene. As Lanelle Henderson described above, there is a fear that one could be “not a team player” or “uncooperative.” Bystander Training efforts could embolden crew members to intervene with respect: a quiet reminder that a fellow crew member has had enough to drink already.

Bystander training can also help curtail sexual assault among crewmembers. A crew member who has undergone bystander training may feel more comfortable telling a colleague that it is unwise to go to a hotel room alone, particularly if one or both have been drinking. The goal is to make such interventions expected as part of a community rather than a shock of assertiveness.

As a culture of respectful intervention grows, crew members may become more adept at intervening with intoxicated passengers.

4. The relationship between travel, alcohol, and sexually-transmitted diseases warrants attention and education.

Passengers and crew members deserve to know their risks for sexually-transmitted infections, and they deserve opportunities to learn about how to be screened, and how to protect themselves. Airlines and unions as well as travel web sites and magazines should address the sexually-transmitted disease epidemic and offer recommendations for healthcare providers and clinics that offer screening and treatment.=

For travelers and crew members also deserve evaluation for pre-exposure prophylaxis for HIV (PrEP). Those who have frequent unprotected sex with multiple partners, especially while traveling, and particularly those with a history of one bacterial sexually-transmitted infection, should be assessed for eligibility to take PrEP. This is a safe and effective means of preventing the transmission of HIV.

Condoms should be sold at airport retail outlets, and they should be available in crew lounges.

Condoms

Some airports offer on-site medical clinics. Whenever possible, these clinics should be able to offer sexually-transmitted disease screening and treatment, post-exposure prophylaxis (medication for those who may have been exposed to HIV), and levenogestrel (“Plan B,” an emergency contraceptive or “morning after pill.”)


5. Women traveling alone deserve the opportunity for additional guidance and support.

Although both men and women can be affected, women traveling alone face specific vulnerability. Special efforts should be made to encourage responsible drinking, and how to seek help if one feels threatened—even if the threat seems benign. Passengers can slip notes on napkins to flight attendants, write messages on their mobile devices and show them to crew members, or speak to another passenger if the crew are not available.

Women’s magazines and web sites should offer constructive tips and advice for drinking with caution and avoiding higher-risk situations that could lead to a sexually-transmitted infection or sexual assault.

6. Provide Help Nearby
Most airports have interfaith “chapels.” For frequent flyers struggling with alcohol abuse, it would be wise to offer Alcoholics Anonymous meetings in these spaces. Although the timing may not suit everyone, an AA meeting could provide a safe alternative to the airport bar or airline lounge.

Employees might be too ostensible as they are amid coworkers and in uniform. Alcoholics Anonymous could have chapters near airports, or near areas where there are large or multiple crew hotels.

 

Liquor is a part of life. It is a part of traveling. Drinking can often be fun. I will have a drink (sometimes two) on a plane. But the prevalence of high-risk drinking surrounding air travel is far too dangerous to keep silenced.

Departure board

 

References

Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Alcohol and Public Health. http://www.cdc.gov/alcohol. Retrieved 21 January 2018

Cohen S. and Gössling S. A darker side of hypermobility. Environment and Planning. 2015; 47, 8

Dickinson G. The truth about drunk pilots – does the profession have an alcohol problem? The Telegraph. 24 January 2018

Feldman J. For Flight Attendants, Sexual Assault Isn’t Just Common, It’s Almost a Given. The Huffington Post. 22 November 2017.

Girasek DC & Olsen CH. Airline passengers’ alcohol use and its safety implications. Journal of Travel Medicine. 2009; 16: 311- 316

Gollan D. Seinfeld Redux: Are American Airlines Flight Attendants Saying ‘No Drinks for You’ in First Class? Forbes. 14 January 2016.

Halliday J & Topham G. Air passengers react to alcohol crackdown: ‘Get as many in as you can.’ The Guardian. 25 August 2017.

Hitt A, Ireland DR, & Hoskisson R. Strategic Management: Competitiveness & Globalization. Boston. Cengage Learning. 2017.

Hutton H., McCaul M., Santora P, Erbelding E. The relationship between recent alcohol use and sexual behaviors. Alcohol Clin Exp Res. 2008; 32, 2008-2015.

Modell JG and Mountz JM. Drinking and flying – the problem of alcohol use by pilots. The New England Journal of Medicine. 1990; 323: 455461.

Petzinger T. Hard Landing. New York: Times Books. 1995.

Pieva, A. The Airline Industry’s Drinking Problem. News Limited. 2017

Plush H. Pilot ‘congratulates passengers’ for drinking all of the alcohol on board. The Telegraph. 12 December 2016.

Schwartz K. Recent Incidents Put a New Focus on Sexual Assault on Airplanes. The New York Times.  20 October 2006.

Vivancos R, Abubakar I, Hunter PR. Foreign travel, casual sex, and sexually transmitted infections: systematic review and meta-analysis. International Journal of Infectious Diseases. 2010;14(10):e842–51.

Ward B. Travel and sexually transmitted infections. Journal of Travel Medicine 2006; 10.

©2018

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Meg Ryan is Making Me Sleepless

Matt Freeman

Annie Reed (Meg Ryan) is the romance-enthused journalist in Sleepless in Seattle. Driving between Baltimore and Washington, Annie becomes infatuated with Sam (Tom Hanks), a lonely widower bearing his soul on a radio show. With daring speed, Annie abandons her boyfriend, Walter (Bill Pullman), and becomes entangled in a slightly saccharine romance with Sam.

In the Christmastime setting of the film, Annie seems somehow reasoned in her actions. Annie (and the audience) have a distaste for Walter. Walter is a downer. He seems perhaps detached, less intense than Sam. But his fatal flaw is a humidifier at his bedside.

Humidifier
Walter would have been fine—even marriage material—but not with that humidifier and those allergies. Thank goodness Annie stalked Sam and dodged that Benadryl-laced bullet! A humidifier? Walter might as well have been in Boko Haram. Good riddance!

Quietly judging Walter for decades, my life took a turn of events in which Walter’s humidifier took center stage.

Ever since graduate school, I was told that I snore. Some neighbors in Stockholm once mentioned that they could hear me from next door. A roommate on a school ski trip was hopelessly annoyed. I figured that this was a function of fatigue and alcohol, both of which are cornerstones of graduate studies.

In paramours that involved frequent overnight stays, I had some snoring complaints, but these were usually joking or just for eye rolling. There were no threats of Annie Reed-style departures.

On two occasions, I saw sleep specialists to ensure that I did not have some sort of correctable deformity. Both offered reassurance.  I did not smoke, was not a heavy drinker, unexceptional of figure, and did not have some sort of problem with nasal or oral anatomy. If I snored, so what?  My dog snores.

I experimented with every possible remedy: an “oral appliance” that essentially inflicted enough pain so that one never falls asleep. I tried costly anti-snore pills of dubious origin. There were nasal sprays, nasal strips, nostril inserts. They all made their way to the rubbish bin quickly.

SnoreStop

For reasons I cannot entirely explain, the symptoms worsened over a short span of time: less than one year. I had moved countries, gained a few pounds, deeply stressed, and was working absurdly long hours. I noticed that I would somehow hear myself snore and awake myself at night. My fatigue progressed, and I was nodding off while driving. I drew the line when I almost wrecked my car while a friend was in the passenger’s seat. I’d rather not be a homicidal driver.

Again, I sought medical advice. I was told the obvious: I worked too hard; and thus when I slept, it was both insufficient and of poor quality.

I argued again of my concern for sleep apnea. I knew from my own practice that it is underdiagnosed, undertreated, and deeply dangerous. I had probably ordered 100 sleep studies in the past year or two. “A-ha!” I would think to myself, “A wise diagnosis. You have helped the patient and protected the public! Bravo!”

Little did I know that I was creating Walters. (In the film, it is most likely a humidifier, but a 2017 Walter would be sleep apnea material.)

The sleep study itself was conducted at home. It was comparatively benign: a small nasal cannula that fell out constantly, pulse oximeter on my finger that slid off every few minutes, and an awkward chest strap. Since I usually sleep on my stomach or side, it was oddly painful, but I endured.

HST

A sleep study in the “comfort” of your own home. What could possibly get in the way of good night’s rest?

The results came soon, and I was told I had severe sleep apnea. I was mortified. But I had the idea that if I treated it, life would be so much better. The stress of work would dissipate, I would be overcome with renewed energy, libido, and my world would be like some sort of television ad for detergent: everything refreshed and renewed.

The ads for sleep apnea equipment were compelling. Erstwhile continuous positive airway pressure (CPAP) had given way to the gentler “autopap”. The machines were heated, humidified, and easily transported. It would be like a user-friendly iPod that would ensure a brilliant night of rest, and greater joy during waking hours.

DreamWear

The language in the ads referred to “dreams,” “pillows,” and “rest.” Through the genius of modern science, I would glide into bed, warm and humidified air granting me peace, resilience, and vigor.

The ads never mention Walter.

The “Dream Machine” was far larger than I had expected. Although it looked innocuous, that changed as soon as one attached the tubing. The cheery saleswoman had assured me that this machine would be effortless and unobtrusive. Using a nasal mask, it would be the least cumbersome. Moreover, it would “ramp up,” leading to increased pressure over time, adapting to my own tolerance. I fell for it.

I brought all the equipment home, and I made room for it at my bedside.

The machine would also report my adherence to my phone, so that I could see my “grade” for the previous night. If I did not feel judged enough for having the machine, I could feel judged by the machine itself.

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The minute I put on the mask, I thought of an oral surgeon. Perhaps around age seven or eight, a dentist told my older sister and me that we would both need to have six teeth removed simultaneously. This was somehow a prerequisite for orthodontia, which is a painful experience to share some other time.  (I am sure that Walter had braces well into is 30s. He probably still has them.)

The tooth extraction was not painful, but it was terrifying. The oral surgeon had a strange, alien demeanor. He was accompanied by a disinterested assistant with flaming red hair. He put a nasal mask on me that fed oxygen. Without warning, he pressed his whole hand over my mouth and jaw, then switching the line to oxygen mixed with nitrous oxide. I wanted to fight back, but I was powerless.

I had nightmares for years about that experience; and I still think about it now. I suppose gaseous induction of anesthesia spares the drama of putting IV lines into children, but there must be a better way to than to hold my mouth and jaw shut until I was rendered unconscious.

I told myself that the lovely, quiet, “Dream Machine” contained nothing but air and water; I would not be held restrained against my will. Soon I would just see the stars twinkle and the Man on the Moon would grin in approval.

The “Dream Machine” was at its lowest setting. It smelled like ozone (the machines are cleaned through ozonolysis.) It jammed air into me with jarring force. I adjusted every setting to reduce it to “gentle breeze” rather than its default, “tornado outbreak.”

CPAP

I did eventually fall asleep, intermittently taking the mask on and off.

Sensing distress, my dog jumped on to the bed, licking my hands. If he could speak, I’m sure he would have said, “Master, this is a bad idea.”

On about the fourth night, I slept only 90 minutes.

The next morning, I found myself lost in mid-sentence, a patient asked me if I had narcolepsy. I fell asleep at my desk, waking up to a screen full of commas.

Over the course of the first week, I had hit my head multiple times on the shower door, the tap, and almost yanked an entire towel rod off the wall. I’d woken up on the bathroom floor and on the couch in my living room.

Every morning, I would fall asleep and hit my head on a water glass or cup of coffee. I would wake up when the drink spilled. Each morning meant wiping off the spilled liquids and cleaning the carpet.

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Poor Walter.

Not only did he lose Meg Ryan, but he would no doubt be stuck with a “Dream Machine,” shoving air down his throat with breakneck pressure.

I asked a friend, “Who would wear one of these?”

“People who want to live,” he suggested. Point taken.

Again, thinking of Walter, I pointed out that nobody famous or attractive would be relegated to a “Dream Machine.”

“Ryan Gosling, Ryan Reynolds, and Ryan Phillipe do not have CPAP machines.” I quipped. “Zoe Saldana: definitely not a CPAP owner.” “Do you think Emma Stone goes to bed at night with one of these? Emma Watson?”

“Prince Harry does not have a CPAP machine.”

“You don’t know that;” my friend replied.

“Can we call Buckingham Palace and ask? What about Kate Middleton?”

Instead of pestering Buckingham Palace, I turned to Google. “Celebrities CPAP,” I entered.

The Ryans and the Emmas were not on the list. If Nicole Kidman wore a CPAP, she was keeping it under wraps. There was no mention of Idris Elba, Alexander Skarsgård, nor Amal Clooney.

The list featured Roseanne Barr, Rick Perry, and Rosie O’Donnell.

This was not uplifting news.

Right now, I am dreading even entering my bedroom. I have a beautiful, big bed with fluffy pillows, and layers of pressed white sheets. I now associate that room with the suffocating ozone smell of the “Dream Machine.”

Although I will consult with my own doctor, I am taking my dad’s advice: “Why don’t you lose a few pounds and not think about it so much?” He went on: “If the mental anguish of the machine is that bad; don’t use it.” And—of course—“hitting your head so frequently is probably not so good for your health.”

Indeed, I tried a night without the “Dream Machine.” I fell asleep in an instant, delving into all of the REM sleep I had been missing. I awoke calm, awake, and steady. And unlike my nights with the machine, I awoke without a headache.

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Annie Reed, I know you’re fictitious, but you should have been kinder to Walter. I am sure that he was unhappy with that machine at his bedside.

© 2017

All images designated as public domain

Suicide is Crazy: The Irrational World of Seeking the End

Matt Freeman

 

A few months ago, a young man came to see me. He was depressed. He had far exceeded typical depression. His speech and manner were slow. His eye contact was minimal. He seemed so sad as if tears were too much effort to shed.

This patient seemed to have a reasonably decent quality of life: otherwise good health, favorable finances, a stable job, and a loving family. He had a recent breakup with his girlfriend, but this was not excessively traumatic. On the surface, he did not seem to have reason to live in such pain.

He told me that he wanted to die.

He evaded questions about any specific plans. I worked with him and his counsellor frequently, and he is now doing well, living in another city.

 

I recognized his words and how he appeared. His hopelessness and emptiness were all too familiar. Some years ago, I came within a few minutes of taking my own life.

Just as it seemed crazy that this guy would die at an early age; it now seems just as crazy that I had walked in the same shoes.

 

Theories of Suicide

Psychologist Thomas Joiner described the suicidal individual as one who is overcome with isolation and a sense of burden upon others. Emile Durkheim characterized suicidal people as emotionally dysregulated: either removed from society or so altruistic that they fear burdening others.

According to Durkheim, a suicidal person could be either too broken as to ignore a moral compass, or conversely tightly bound to crippling perfectionism.

Aaron Beck wrote how those who succumb to suicide are “sensitized” to the notion of killing themselves by suicidal experiences, thereby making the final act somehow more accessible.

There are perhaps a dozen more theories, all trying to explain what leads a person to end his or her own life.

 

Theories of suicide may provide comfort to the bereaved, guidance for therapists, and a framework for suicide prevention. But the theories perhaps try to explain the inexplicable.

One of my favorite colleagues, a clinical psychologist, took a more straightforward approach. “Think of it in terms of problem solving. A person is suffering, so he or she seeks a list of possible solutions. Somehow suicide ends up on the list, even though it makes no sense to an outsider.”

I am writing about suicide as a release from emotional pain and mental illness, not the planned suicides of those with terminal diseases. These are controlled, programmed journeys to the end of life. It is an understandable escape from pain and indignity.

I write instead of suicide that makes no sense. Suicide is not necessarily an act of logic. The hopelessness and emptiness that surround the will to die are muddled, indistinct infections of the mind.

 

Where Burnout and Depression Meet

I knew what depression was. I had experienced its grip, but a commitment to suicidality was different. Although everyone experiences it differently, depression felt like a frustration and conflict with life. Suicidality felt that life was immaterial.

There is increasing attention to burnout among healthcare providers. Not enough attention, but at least a bit. I found myself working inconceivably long hours—sometimes out of necessity; sometimes to escape from an otherwise empty existence.

In the assessment of suicidal risk, the unfortunate term “trigger” is the first item on the list. It could be a loss of a loved one or friend, an illness, a divorce. In my case, it was the all-too-common threat of a dysfunctional and menacing workplace.

The abyss deepened as a recognized the venom of work. Concealed beneath the veneer of a “we’re all family here” façade, I was mired in politics and backstabbing that driven by a culture pervasive with hatred, secrets, and seemingly constant dismissals. Characteristic of a sick workplace, employees would disappear overnight.

It is a story told quite frequently in America: there have been front-page articles about Amazon, Microsoft, and—of course—Enron. I lived in constant fear of being berated and dismissed despite my popularity with my own supervisors, colleagues, and my patients.

Depleted of all energy, crushed with loneliness, and a biting work environment left my life feeling not just depressed but entirely unworthy. Although worthlessness is a symptom of depression, this was not just “I’m no good,” it was a total and all-encompassing feeling that life had no value. No medicine, no workbook, no cognitive exercise could extricate me.

 

Legend Versus Practicality

There is a glossed, almost benign nature to legendary suicides. One’s mind turns to Sylvia Plath’s oven or Socrates’ sprigs of hemlock.  These were undoubtedly violent—even disgusting deaths. But the gore is washed away. I thought of the The Aokigahara, Japan’s “Suicide Forest” or the Golden Gate Bridge. These seemed like misty outposts for a quiet exit rather than nightmarish sites of early death.

When my last stages of planning were underway, there was no poetry, no drama. Suicide was a remarkably practical endeavor. I ensured that my patients’ charts were suitable for someone else to take over, that my apartment was tidy, and I had made careful plans for my dog to be at a kennel. I even emptied my refrigerator as to ensure that the smell of spoiling milk would not disturb the neighbors.

The plan I had selected also made every effort to prevent me from being found. I did a couple of “dry runs” to make certain that I could get it right. I did not want anyone to stumble upon a decaying body, nor did I wish for any sort of funeral. I just wanted to disappear from this earth. Swiftly, quietly, in a cold, rainy night.

I also wanted to be certain that I did not end up in lace-less shoes playing musical chairs with meth addicts and schizophrenics on a locked psychiatric unit.

The questions I asked myself were not related to life or death. I wondered if I should leave my door unlocked, where to leave my car keys, and if I needed to take my wallet. In the loss of rational thinking that characterizes the most immediate of suicidal thoughts, “Should I do this?” was not on the checklist.

 

The Mask of Professional Identity

The deepest irony was that I spent much of my work dealing with suicidal patients. I taught classes on suicide assessment, I visited patients and families in crisis centers and psychiatric units.

Perhaps once a week, I found myself conferring with colleagues about the potential suicide risk of a patient. I even earned ironic praise for handling the suicide of a patient with grace and calm.

While talking with patients who expressed suicidal thoughts, I often found myself thinking, “Oh, you’re definitely not suicidal. I am suicidal.” Maybe it was my own escalating will to die that made it so easy for me to convince others that that they were not in such dire condition.

In a bit of macabre humor, I found myself taking suicide risk inventories. In my perfectionist, over-educated world, I wanted a grade. I never seemed to score that high. I was not physically ill, I did not fall in the right age ranges, I lacked a substance abuse problem, and my finances were not in jeopardy. I was failing the suicide tests.

 

The Note

Comedian Sam Grittner wrote about the strange task of writing a suicide note. He stumbled over font choices and he ran out of ink for his printer. I was fortunate enough to have a laser printer with adequate toner; and I was pretty set on using Palatino.

Although I wrote several drafts, they never seemed to say anything other than “I’m sorry.” I felt like including a few “fuck you’s.” It occurred to me that those I would mention were such sociopaths that they would be unlikely to be moved or even saddened by a suicide. I was not really interested in teaching anyone a lesson.

I never printed the note. I kept wondering where to put it, and if anyone would bother reading it. What purpose would it serve? I did not want anyone thinking, “Oh if only…” I did not want anyone thinking of me at all. I wanted my life erased.

One of the most frustrating lines is, “It was such a selfish act.” Suicide is a desperately-needed escape from a life too painful or meaningless to continue. Selfishness implies indulgence, diversion of resources to oneself. Suicide feels like the opposite of siphoning off the assets of others. It is one less mouth to feed, one less salary to pay. I even thought it would be a benefit to the healthcare system: one less patient availing himself of costly benefits.

 

An Unhealthy Dose of Guilt

It seems like human nature to seek comparisons. I was beyond the point of reflecting on my life, but I would sometimes get flashes of world news. “You could have ALS,” “You could be living amid genocide, war, appalling poverty… So many people have it worse than you do.”

This only adds to the damnation of suicide as “selfish”. The imminent will to end one’s life has nothing to do with Darfur or Donetsk. It is neither reassuring nor helpful to imagine squalor and pain elsewhere in the world.

“Count your blessings” has a pop psychology, Dr. Joyce Brothers superficiality. If one is truly committed to dying, “counting blessings” sounds like a childish diversion. Flip as it may sound, it would be the equivalent of saying, “I have an iPhone and I do not have cystic acne. Wow! This is fantastic! I should stay alive after all!”

It is also similar to saying, “It can’t be that bad.” In those last days and hours, there is no “bad” or “good”. It is only a matter of, finding an end. The pain is suppressed; one’s focus is just to make life disappear.

 

The Particular Burden of Professional Licensure

The most heartless and sinister aspect of being a healthcare provider struggling with suicide is that many state laws require investigation, oversight, and practice restrictions on doctors and nurses who “get caught” admitting to suicidal thoughts. In a misguided effort to “protect the public,” licensure boards crack down on those most in need of help, punishing anyone who reaches out at the last moment before leaving this world.

The boards tacitly endorse suicide: it is far easier to be dead than to have to suffer a public disclose one’s most painful, innermost thoughts repeatedly for the remainder of one’s career. Had I been hospitalized, the law would have required that the licensure board issue a press release, warning the public that I was mentally unwell. Any member of the public would be able to read the most intimate details. I would spend the rest of my career providing documents of my mental instability to insurance companies.

 

Reverse Course

I paused. I do not know why. I doubt I will ever know why.

To paraphrase Sam Grittner: “Pro Tip: always call your therapist before pulling the trigger.”

“Pro Tip: always call your therapist before pulling the trigger.”

I had a psychologist. A wise, warm, and clever professional. He was deeply caring with an unmatched sense of humor.  Trying avoid alarm, I did not call from a bridge, nor did I bother him in the middle of the night. I spent the remainder of that night agitated and foggy, and waited for his office open.

His response was what only the most confident and caring professionals would know to do: he gave me a huge hug, struggling to keep back his own tears.

There was no need for him to demand my shoelaces or submit me to the indignities of hospitalization. Without words, he was saying, “No. That’s not where this is going. You’re not doing this.”

He also knew to meet me in a place I knew well: the snarky gallows humor of medicine. We talked about how one particular attending psychiatrist was almost always on service at the nearby hospital. He was famous for being as arrogant as he was incompetent. If I somehow did not die from suicide, I could awake from a coma with that imbecile at my bedside.

I was deeply unwell, but made every effort to fake it. I got up went to work, and buried myself in routine.

I eventually moved on from the battles of my former job. Although it seems inconceivable, I just somehow did not feel like dying anymore.

 

Retrospect

Sufficient time has passed that I can think somewhat clearly about that dark 48 hours. The lesson I wish I could impart the most to others is that suicide makes no sense. One can read theory upon theory, but it is inherently irrational. I cannot explain why I did not kill myself.

Suicide assessments also try to impart some sort of method where there is no algorithm or equation. I did not score high enough on any of the “validated” suicide measures. There is thus a danger to suicide awareness campaigns and to clinicians who might turn to some sort of psychiatric inventory.

As I knew, the most lethally suicidal patients keep their mouths shut. Except at the very end; I said nothing. Although there is an art to working with more vocal patients, and their cries should not go unheard, it was a function of good luck that I happened to have a psychologist, and that he was both available and perceptive.

 

I think I am a better clinician because of my own experience. I obviously maintain boundaries and do not talk about myself. Like the patient in the introduction, I can at least feel a deep sense of empathy, and I try to take after the psychologist who looked after me.

Only the most monstrous of licensure boards would punish me for expressing my recollections here. I am no danger to myself–years have passed; and I was never a danger to others. I ended up avoiding the hospital, and thus would not meet the threshold for some sort of investigation.

 

Taking a cue from the “Make It OK” program and “The Hilarious World of Depression” series, I felt that sharing my own experience might just help someone else.

If that person is you, and you are reading this, do me a favor: wait a day. Call the person most likely to help you. I wish you a hug, honesty, and hope.

© 2017

for BB

Window Seat

 

Matt Freeman DNP, MPH

 

“Come with us.”

A soft-spoken airline agent gestured toward me.

“You don’t want to miss this.”

She saw me sitting alone, my eyes wandering out the window. Perhaps seven or eight airline employees gathered by massive floor-to-ceiling windows. “We always watch the sunset together,” she explained.

Several snapped photos with their phones.

The sun grew and glistened, the planes shimmering in neat rows. The endless crowds, congestion, and noise of LAX disappeared. It was just a few moments of collective appreciation of the planet. From there, flying took on a renewed, human quality. I took off that night, staring out at the stars from the window seat. It was a sensation of immeasurably profound calm.

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Fear and Fascination

The first time I was old enough to remember a big trip, I was sitting with my mother at Kennedy Airport. Only the nose of the 747 was visible from the window. It seemed like an improbable means to take flight, and I wondered if the “real” plane was hidden behind it. This was all some illusion.

Nobody had told me that the flight would take place at night. It seemed like an absurdly bad idea. How would we find our way? How would we avoid bumping into another plane?

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Fatigue must have set in, and I nodded off.

I awoke next to my father, my ears popping. As I stared out of the window, I was transfixed. The wing had moving parts that extended and screeched. Wafts of mist shot across the wing surface. Fog and clouds spirited past the window. Beneath us lay something even more extraordinary: houses, electrical wires, grass, cars, road. We were landing in Milan, but I had no idea what to expect. I was dumbfounded that Italy had certain familiarities from home.

 

The Foreign and the Surreal

A couple of years later, I visited Heathrow Airport for the first time. I was perhaps about nine years-old. The experience of flying took on a particularly enthralling mystique. Unlike anything I had seen before, digital signs heralded flights to Harare, Bratislava, Caracas, and Leningrad. There were planes from “forbidden” port of call: an Illyushin jet from Aeroflot taxied into a nearby gate.

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The next morning, we sat outside at the New Stanley Hotel in Nairobi. My family pointed out that the crew from British Airways was at the table next to us. It was like seeing a primary school teacher at the movies or supermarket. They were in casual clothes, having a beer in the African sunshine. It made little sense. In my boyhood imagination, these people lived on the 747. They would not wear anything other than deep blue uniforms adorned with ties and scarves styled after the Union Jack. Everything became even more magical and mysterious.

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My family was quick to indulge my fascination. My uncle would send me unused invitations to the business class lounge in Bucharest (aware that I was unlikely to have a Romanian holiday anytime soon.) My grandfather would take me to the airport to see the rare appearance of a DC-10 from JAT, an erstwhile Yugoslav airline. A neighbor who worked for El Al would tell me stories of his own travels on employee tickets. My grandmother shared stories of the furious immigration officer at Sheremetyevo Airport in Moscow.

 

The Joy Fades

Somehow the sparkle became routine, a hassle, bourgeois cocktail conversation. As I grew older, flying became about hassles, garnering points, and dodging high fares. As I grew larger and more discriminating, the size and pitch of the seats became bothersome, the food avoidable rather than interesting. I was once fascinated by the stamps and carbon copies by ticket agents, this gave way to endless crowds, and frustrating hassles.

As aviation terrorism resurged on US shores, I lost my interest with the unusual security procedures overseas, I developed particular fury with the nonsensical, humiliating, and seemingly endless antics at the hands of the Transportation Security Administration.

It took a moment that evening, standing and watching the sunset at LAX, to find the mystique and passion from the jumbo jets we board every day.

 

Re-Imagining Magnitude

The anxious clenched fists I felt as I stepped aboard a 747 as a little kid are best explained by the unthinkable scope of what it means to travel today. It is both mundane and astounding.

As an adult, I was sitting next to my father on flight from Newark to São Paulo. “How many dishes and plates do they go through?” He asked. I did not have an answer other than “a lot.”

 

Flight 85 is the most familiar to me. Every day, a Boeing 777-200 takes off from Gate C9 in Tel Aviv just after noon, arriving at Newark just after 5:00 pm. Depending on the time of year, the flight takes about 11 and half hours.

Shortly after 9:00 am, the check-in counters open. Two hundred sixty-seven passengers are interviewed by the Israeli Airport Authority, their bags are weighed and tagged then screened. The passengers walk downward through a security checkpoint, immigration control, and then to a massive fountain-filled rotunda bustling with 24-hour, seven-day duty free shops.

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About 90 minutes later, roughly 18 crew arrive, having spent the past 24 to 30 hours asleep, on the beach or touring Israel. There are typically two pilots, two “relief” pilots, at least four plain-clothes Federal Air Marshals, a purser or “Inflight Service Director,” about three Hebrew-speaking flight attendants, and five international flight attendants.

From the upper level of Ben Gurion Airport, the 777 is not particularly imposing. The airport is full of jumbo jets in the Middle Eastern sunlight. Unlike my fear of the 747 at JFK, the plane looks airworthy. From such a height, one can hardly perceive its 64 meter length (210 feet), and even greater wingspan. The engines themselves are seven meters (24 feet) in diameter. It seems implausible, but four of me could stand head-to-toe inside the engine.

As the ground crew starts preparations, the 777 will require about 220,000 pounds of fuel. This is measured in pounds in part for convenience. It is roughly the equivalent of 1,493,800 gallons. (5,654,648 liters). According to indexmundi.com, the cost of fuel would be $1.30 per pound or $286,000 for the flight. That does not account for the likely higher cost of Jet-A fuel in Israel. At $1071 per passenger just for fuel, suddenly the actual cost of the airfare does not seem quite so extortionate.

 

Roughly 45 to 60 minutes before pushback, a mix of crews from Quality Airport Services (QAS) and United Airlines start loading the 267 passengers: checking passports, asking few security questions mandated by the US government, and a glance at hand luggage to ensure that passengers comply with US laws about liquids. In an unthinkably fast 45 minutes, each wheelchair is stowed, each stroller is collapsed and tagged, each forbidden water bottle is discarded, and passengers negotiate with their neighbors to swap seats.

In the mid-day heat, the 777 uses the longest runway, a breathtaking 13,327 feet (4,026 meters).

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Despite endless web sites full of vitriol and ratings, the cabin on flight 85 offers the unimaginable. Passengers plug in to electrical outlets, log in to WiFi, flip through page after page of “on demand” movies and television shows.

In business class, a stainless steel cart passes through the aisle with the crew offering port and gourmet cheeses cut to the passenger’s taste. This is followed by another stainless steel cart with ice cream, warmed chocolate fudge, and liqueurs.

It is easy to forget that this is occurring at 560 miles per hour (901 kilometers per hour.) This is just about three quarters of the speed of sound.

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All of the Above Quadrupled

Perhaps the most remarkable fact is that a sister flight, number 91, will take off with another 267 passengers just under twelve hours later. Meanwhile, their counterparts (84 and 90) are flying from Newark back to Tel Aviv. Every day.

That means 1,068 passengers per day, every day, on just one route. In the roughest estimates, that is 2,136 hot meals, 5,000 paper napkins. If just half of the passengers participate in a frequent flyer program, more than three million miles will be earned.

Six days per week, the same route is replicated by El Al Israel Airlines, carrying at least an additional 279 passengers per direction.

That is one route on one day of the week.

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Finding Meaning

The hassles are seemingly endless: high fares, confusing web sites, strange fees, long lines, absurd security, delays, cancellations, diversions….

Look out the window.

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There is both joy and peace to be found amid the clouds. The views are unparalleled, particularly the sunsets.

There is a certain shock if one considers what constitutes a “routine” flight. It is so complex that one’s mind cannot begin to imagine 5,000 napkins.

Take a cue from the enamored staff at LAX: look out the window; snap a photo of the sunset.

 

©2016

All images designated for non-commerical redistribution

Pseudoscience at Gate B6

Matt Freeman DNP, MPH

It was mid-morning on a Saturday. I had only hand luggage, and had checked in online the day before. I arrived at the small airport exactly one hour before departure. I was a bit annoyed that the flight was delayed, but otherwise not expecting too much trouble. It was a 90-minute flight on a 70-seat regional jet. Only one other flight, also a small regional jet, was departing from the same section of the airport.

By my best estimate, there were 80 passengers in line for the security checkpoint. Most seemed to be leisure travelers: families with little kids, older adults. There was an abundance of sunburn and golf shirts.

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The queue inched along. As I looked around, anxiety was escalating. There was a lot of chatter about missing flights; several people were in tears knowing that they would certainly have their travel plans fall into disarray.

Twelve Transportation Security Administration (TSA) staff were working: one checking identity cards, two on either side of the x-ray machine, one operating the metal detector, seven chatting with each other, and one walking his way through the increasingly antsy crowd.

“What is the province of your destination?” He asked the woman next to me.

“Province?”

“Yes, which province? British Columbia? Ontario?”

Confused, the woman replied, “I’m going to Houston. I don’t know what province that’s in.”

The TSA agent scoffed. He moved on to the next passenger. “The same question for you, ma’am. What is the province of your destination?”

The woman didn’t speak, handing over her driver’s license and boarding card, assuming that was what he wanted. He stared back with disdain.

 

There are no flights from this airport to Canada.

 

When it was my turn, I volunteered, “I’m going to Texas, not Canada.”

“What are the whereabouts of your luggage?” He asked.

“Their whereabouts? My bag is right here next to me.”

“Yes, what are its whereabouts?”

 “It’s right here.”

“And that’s its whereabouts?”

This was seeming like a grammatical question.

“And about its contents? Are you aware of them?”

“Yes,” I replied, quizzically.

He moved on.

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I missed my flight. The woman next to me met the same fate. She cried. I cringed. We pleaded with the airline agent for clemency. The plane pushed back from the gate with many passengers waiting to be asked about the whereabouts of their belongings or their province of destination.

The agent asking the strange questions and delaying the flights was a part of  “SPOT.”

 

The SPOT Program

In 2006, the TSA introduced “SPOT: Screening Passengers by Observational Techniques.” The concept was to identify nonverbal indicators that a passenger was engaged in foul play. Two years after the program started, the US Government Accounting Office (GAO) declared that, “no scientific evidence exists to support the detection of or inference of future behavior, including intent.”

The absence of evidence did not dissuade the TSA. Neither did another study in 2013, in which the GAO reported, “the human ability to accurately identify deceptive behavior based on behavioral indicators is the same as or slightly better than chance.”

The Department of Homeland Security, which oversees the TSA, has its doubts as well. The DHS inspector general reported in 2013 described the SPOT as follows: “[We] cannot ensure that passengers at United States airports are screened objectively, show that the program is cost-effective, or reasonably justify the program’s expansion.” It is now three years since that statement, but the TSA is still playing the game, aware that they have no data nor agency backup to support their efforts.

SPOT is expensive too. The GAO reported that the program has cost more than $900 million since its inauguration. That is just the cost of training staff and operating the program, not the costs incurred by delayed or detained passengers.

 

The “Science” Behind Behavioral Techniques

The SPOT program was developed by multiple sources, but there is one most prominent psychologist in the field: Paul Ekman PhD.

Ekman published Emotion in the Human Face, which demonstrated that six basic human emotions: anger, sadness, fear, happiness, surprise, and disgust, are universally expressed on the human face. Ekman had travelled to New Guinea to show that facial expressions did not vary across geography or culture.

Ekman’s theory was undisputed for 20 years until Lisa Feldman Barrett PhD showed that Ekman’s research required observes to select from the list of six emotions. When observers were asked to analyze emotions without a list, there was some reliability in the recognition of happiness and fear. The other emotions could not be distinguished.

When confronted with skepticism from scientists, Ekman declined to release the details of his research for peer review. Ekman claims that his work is on the radar of scientists from China, Iran, and Syria, so it would be dangerous for him to disclose his findings. I guess I should not publish here that the atomic weight of hydrogen is 1.008 atomic mass units. Syrians could find out! Everyone, hide your physics and chemistry textbooks!

Charles Honts PhD attempted to replicate Ekman’s findings at the University of Utah. No dice. Ekman’s “secret” findings could not be replicated. Maria Hartwig PhD, a psychologist at City University of New York’s John Jay College of Friminal Justice, described Ekman’s work as, “a leap of gargantuan dimensions not supported by scientific evidence.”

The TSA’s own adaptation of Ekman’s work into SPOT is scientifically challenging because it can only be tested on those pretending to be terrorists. In other words, any attempt at scientific application of SPOT evaluation is based on those who are already engaged in deception. Even Ekman himself describes the TSA’s testing of his research as “totally bogus.”

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Maybe I can boil this down: we have a psychologist whose research was refuted. And even the defamed psychologist has argued that the TSA’s application of his already dubious evidence is “bogus.”

When asked directly, a TSA analyst pointed to the work of David Givens PhD, an anthropologist and author. Givens has published popular works on body language, but Givens explained that the TSA did not specify which elements of his own theories were adopted by the TSA, and the TSA never asked him.

 

The TSA’s Response

When asked for statistics, TSA analyst Carl Maccario cited one anecdote of a passenger who was “rocking back and forth strangely,” and was later found to have been carrying fuel bottles that contained flammable materials. The TSA described these items as, “the makings of a pipe bomb,” but there was no evidence that the passenger was doing anything other than carrying a dangerous substance in his hand luggage. There was nothing to suggest that he planned to hurt anyone.

A single anecdote is not research, and this was a weak story at best.

When the GAO investigated further, they analyzed the data of 232,000 passengers who were identified by “behavioral detection” as cause for concern. Of the 232,000, there were 1,710 arrests. These arrests were mostly due to outstanding arrest warrants, and there is no evidence that any were ever linked to terrorist activity.

 

What Criteria Are Used in the SPOT Program?

In 2015, The Intercept published the TSA’s worksheet for behavioral detection officers.

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I was obviously in deep trouble.

“Stress Factors” (one point for each)

  • Avoids eye contact with security personnel (why do I need to make eye contact?)
  • Excessive clock watching (yep; it was getting late.)
  • Face pale from recent shaving of beard (I shaved that morning.)

 

“Fear Factors” (two points for each)

  • Constantly looking at other travelers or associates (People were crying. Why would I not be looking around to see what was going on? Was I supposed to stare straight ahead? Nope. Can’t do that; staring also racks up points on the worksheet.)
  • Scans area, appearing to look for security personnel (I was wondering why they weren’t working.)

 

“Deception Factors” (three points for each)

  • Appears to be confused and disoriented (I was asked bizarre questions that required clarification)

 

I earned eight points, which assigned  me to the highest risk category. If one followed the paperwork, I should have been referred for extensive screening and law enforcement was to be notified.

It would have been hard to find passengers in the line who did not exceed five points required to warrant a referral for additional screening.

Considering that the criteria include yawning, whistling, a subjectively fast “eye blink rate,” “strong body odor” and head turning, just about everyone reaches the SPOT threshold.

Mercifully, I was sent on to the screaming TSA agent at the metal detector and the man who was angry that I did not have a laptop. I was spared further scrutiny.

 

The Risk of Scoring

Looking past the absence of evidence, there are further problems with the SPOT worksheet. “Scored” decisions can detract common sense. For example, I have often lectured on suicide assessment. There are several analysis tools to help a clinician determine if a patient should be admitted to the hospital or allowed to go home. I always teach, “whatever you do, do not assign a score.” This offers a false sense of security without real clinical application. It doesn’t matter if a patient only gets a five out of 20 if he takes his own life after you discharge him or her.

 

The Fourth and Fifth Amendments

The Fourth Amendment protects Americans from “unreasonable” search and seizure. But airport security falls under the category of a “consent search,” which is voluntary. The Fourth Amendment does not apply because the search is conducted outside the setting of an arrest, and the passenger has “consented” to a TSA search.

  1. The courts ruled that a passenger consents to inspection either by presenting his or her identification and boarding card to the TSA, or by placing his or her belongings on an x-ray conveyor belt. The SPOT interviews take place before either of these steps, when passengers have not yet entered the TSA’s “custodial” area.
  2. The extent and detail of the search is not explicit. A reasonable passenger would have the expectation that he or she will be subject to some form of inspection of their hand luggage, a metal detector, or a full body scanner. Is it reasonable to assume that passengers can expect to be interviewed?

 

What about the Fifth Amendment? Since the Bill of Rights does not apply at the checkpoint, a passenger could easily self-incriminate.

  1. TSA staff are not law enforcement officers and have no powers of arrest. But they use the term “officer” and wear badges. (This has been subject to controversy by bona fide law enforcement officers.) The notion of a “consent search” is by no means explicit at any checkpoint.

 

Conducting an interview with the appearance of a law enforcement role exploits a loophole. There is no Fourth Amendment because the interview is not conducted by a law enforcement officer. There is no right to an attorney, no right to remain silent because the interviewer merely has the appearance of a police officer.

The bottom line: the TSA is not actually law enforcement but they do have the power to prevent a passenger from boarding an airplane. One has to submit to SPOT investigation in order to fly. Even if one has not even begun the screening process on constitutional grounds, and even if the nature of one’s consent is by no means informed.

Above all, the “search”—the interview—has not been shown to be any better than chance alone at detecting a dangerous passenger.

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Low-Hanging Fruit

My friend Grace is a great physician. She is a warm, brilliant, and talented colleague. We have been friends for decades. She grew up in the Midwest to all-American parents. She has an amazing sense of humor and a charming personality.

Grace went to visit her parents in Michigan, and flew there without incident. On her way home, a SPOT agent saw her in line at the entrance to the security checkpoint.

She was pulled aside, taken to a separate room, and interviewed by two TSA staff with seemingly meaningless questions. Her boarding card had not been flagged; she was taken out of line before she had even entered the screening area.

She missed her flight.

Rattled and confused, Grace called and asked what could have happened. We agreed that she was a target for several reasons: attractive, thereby capturing the interest of male TSA agents, who could have her alone in a room and get to know her. And we agreed that she was “low-hanging fruit:” someone who would be articulate enough to answer questions, unlikely to unleash anger, and unlikely to question the TSA’s judgment.

The TSA denies that SPOT agents have a quota to follow. But SPOT agents have stated that they were under the impression that a promotion was more likely if they pulled more passenger aside.

This was not about security, not quite in line with a “consent search,” and really had to do with either getting a promotion or perhaps scoring a date.

 

SPOT Around the World

Since the 1980s, the US Government has required US air carriers to conduct profiling techniques for flights destined to the United States. This applies to flights form designated “higher risk” points of origin: anywhere mostly Europe, South America, and the Middle East.

Using techniques comparable to the SPOT program, security contractors conduct interviews at the check-in counter and boarding gates. Many European carriers use the same system for flights from the developing world to Europe.

The largest contractor, ICTS, and its affiliates, claim to follow an Israeli model of threat detection: behavioral analysis. The company was founded by Israeli security “experts,” and theoretically models its behavioral profiling system following an Israeli model.

Their track record abysmal.

In 1988, passengers checking in at Frankfurt Airport for Pan Am flight 103 were questioned by security staff, supposedly looking for behavioral profiles akin to SPOT techniques. The staff spoke inadequate English to understand responses. They were given stickers to identify passengers who should be subject to further scrutiny (“selectees,”) but the screening staff did not even know what a “selectee” was, so they just assigned the stickers at random. Two hundred forty-three passengers and 16 crew died when a bomb exploded aboard the second segment of the flight.

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On 21 December 2001, Richard Colvin Reid checked in at Terminal 2A at Paris Roissy/Charles de Gaulle Airport. American Airlines’ contract security agents were wary of Reid’s appearance and evasive answers to their questions. After consultation with the French Police, Reid was given a ticket for a flight the following day. He boarded American Airlines flight 63 with his shoes loaded with plastic explosives.

Seven years later, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab passed through a document inspection and security interview by KLM contract security staff in Lagos. He was then interviewed and searched by Delta Air Lines’ contract security agent, ICTS, at Amsterdam Airport Schipol. The interview did not arouse enough suspicion to warrant further search or inspection, and Abdulmutallab boarded Delta Air Lines flight 253 with explosives in his underwear.

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At least Reid and Abdulmutallab did not harm anyone.

 

Can this Work? Common Sense Behavioral Detection

On 14 December 1999, “Benni Antonie Noris” arrived in Port Angeles, Washington in a green Chrysler 300M. Customs officer Diana Dean asked where he was headed. In broken English, Noris stated that he was headed to Seattle for a “business trip.” This made little sense since there are far more direct ways to travel from Vancouver to Seattle. Noris was fidgeting, jittery, and sweating. He began fidgeting and squirming, hiding his hands. His form of identification was a Costco Card.

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Port Angeles, Washington

It did not require a SPOT form to give Diana Dean an indication that this driver’s behavior was atypical.

The driver was unable to articulate his plans in Seattle nor where he was staying. Dean described him as acting “hinky” (I had to look that word up in a dictionary. It should clearly be in wider use.)

Inside the trunk of his car, Dean kept the conversation going as she and a colleague inspected his car. It was loaded with nitroglycerine.

The driver turned out to be Ahmed Ressam, known as “The Millennium Bomber.” Ressam was on the verge of executing a plot to blow up Los Angeles International Airport on New Year’s Eve.

Diana Dean did not need a SPOT training notice a problem. This is a man who used his Costco card as identification and hid his hands. No need for “behavioral detection” techniques. Dean modestly claimed it was “dumb luck.”  It was not luck; she just identified remarkably aberrant behavior. This was not a checklist of someone blinking too fast or having shaved recently. This was a wise customs agent thinking, “This guy just used a Costco card as identification.”

 

The Israeli Method

As an Israeli national, I became accustomed to the envied security techniques employed at Israel’s four commercial airports.

The agents employed by the Israeli Airports Authority (IAA) do indeed “profile” passengers, but their efforts are often quicker, easier, and seem far more like the “Diana Dean Technique.”

IAA staff rank passengers from “1” to “6,” with the higher then number indicating the greatest amount of suspicion. I have only ever earned a number “1,” so I speak from the least intrusive end of the spectrum.

Instead of attempt to ensnare me in a trap with questions about the whereabouts of my bags or my province of destination, the questions are usually reasonable and fast. “Where have your bags been since you packed them?” “Did anyone give you anything to take with you?” “Are you carrying anything that could be used as a weapon?”

In some cases, the agents attempt to asses if a passenger is Jewish, but this is conducted in a roundabout way so as to circumvent religious profiling. Foreign travelers are asked, “Do you belong to a religious congregation?”

But the question is partially helpful as there are many Christian and Muslim tourists in Israel. Those travelling with a Christian tourist group are unlikely to arouse much suspicion.

In fact, I have only seen a few passengers earn a number “6.” These were American Christian young adults, who mentioned that they had travelled to Jordan, and they were given CDs by an acquaintance to bring back to the United States. They did not know was on the CDs. That is a case for Diana Dean. “You do not know the guy who gave these to you, nor do you know their what is on them?” I would have been skeptical too.

The IAA is cautious about race and religion. The worst attack on Israeli air transportation took place in 1972 at Ben Gurion Airport. Twenty-six people were killed. The assailants were Japanese, posing as tourists. Since that attack, the IAA has attempted to include ethnicity and religion only as components of its screening process.

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Although many have published horror stories, the overwhelming majority of passengers do not encounter anything extraordinary at Israeli airports. The agents are usually young, bubbly, right out of their army service, and eager to show off any language skills they may have acquired.

There is no “show.” There are no badges, nobody is called “officer,” and the goal is clear: keep the airport and flights safe.

The staff joke, make small talk, and are typically make an effort to help those who are elderly, infirm, or traveling with small children. The goal is to screen for problems but do so expeditiously and without pretending to be anything other than airport security.

I have heard stories, especially from non-Jewish tourists, who were subject to greater questioning or detailed searches of their hand luggage. But I have never heard of a missed flight due to semantic tricks about the whereabouts of one’s luggage.

Although I do defend every aspect of Israel’s government, racial tensions, or the Palestinian conflict, I can say with certainty that I would not have missed my flight due to trick questions about the whereabouts of my bags or to which province I was headed. If I was running late, I am confident that the IAA staff would have done their best to mitigate the problem.

 

Is There a Better Answer?

Israel does not publish statistics, and I could not tell you if their system is any better. The difference is one of attitude: most of the IAA staff are kind, calm, and not interested in hassling anyone.

Moreover, Israeli airports protect their perimeters. There are two checkpoints before even entering Ben Gurion Airport. This reduces the risk of one of the TSA’s glaring loopholes: long lines of passengers waiting to enter a security checkpoint. It seems like a situation ripe for an attack. And it has happened before: in 1985, 19 people were killed and 100 wounded when terrorists attacked the TWA and El Al check in desks at Rome and Vienna Airports. The TSA lives in the strange assumption that only “sterile” areas of the airport are subject to an attack, thereby ignoring enormous public spaces.

Given the amount of air travel to, from, and within the United States, I doubt that questioning passengers would ever work. The TSA lacks the organization, multilingual skills, and service mentality of the Israel Airports Authority.

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A crowded checkpoint at Seattle/Tacoma International Airport: mobs of people who have not been screened for weapons

The TSA already has one answer, but they chose not to use it in my case. I am a member of the Department of Homeland Security’s “Global Entry” program. This means that I was subject to a background check, interview, and fingerprinting. The Department of Homeland Security vetted my credentials and deemed that I did not present any extraordinary risks, and could therefore use its “PreCheck” lane. But this airport had decided to close its PreCheck lane that day. And their SPOT agent had no knowledge that I had already been vetted through databases and fingerprints… arguably a more reliable system than having him determine if I blinked too rapidly.

Until 2015, the PreCheck program also meant that one need not pass through a full-body scanning machine, in part because the machines are famously slow and inaccurate. They are particularly problematic for those with disabilities and other medical conditions. But the TSA decided that it would switch to random use of full body scanners even for those passengers who had already been vetted. Lines grew longer; no weapons have been discovered.

 

Looking Forward

  1. The SPOT program has been proven to be ineffective. There is no rational reason to keep it in place.
  2. There must not be quotas or incentives for detailed searches and questioning in the absence of probable cause.
  3. Passengers consenting to a search should have the right to know what the search entails, particularly if it involves odd interrogation techniques that can lead to missing one’s flight.
  4. The TSA should respect previous court rulings that the search process begins when a passenger consents to being searched. Asking questions outside of the TSA’s custodial area of the airport is questionable for legal reasons.
  5. Reduce lines. The attacks in Rome and Vienna were more than four decades ago, but that has not dissuaded the TSA. Get the queue moving quickly, thereby reducing the opportunity for an attack.
  6. Stratified screening, such as he PreCheck program, makes sense. But it TSA staff elect to ignore the program, then it is no longer useful.

 

 

References

Benton H, Carter M, Heath D, and Neff J. The Warning. The Seattle Times. 23 July 2002.

Borland J. Maybe surveillance is bad, after all. Wired. 8 August 2007.

Dicker K. Yes, the TSA is probably profiling you and it’s scientifically bogus. Business Insider. 6 May 2015.

Herring A. The new face of emotion. Northeastern Magazine. Spring 2014.

Kerr O. Do travelers have a right to leave airport security areas without the TSA’s Permission. The Washington Post. 6 April 2014.

Martin H. Conversations are more effective for screening passengers, study finds.  The Los Angeles Times. 16 November 2014.

The men who stare at airline passengers. The Economist. 6 June 2010.

Segura L. Feeling nervous? 3,000 Behavioral Detection Officers will be watching you at the airport this thanksgiving. Alternet. 23 November 2009

Smith T. Next in line for the TSA? A thorough ‘chat down.’ National Public Radio. 16 August 2011.

Wallis R. Lockerbie: The Story and the Lessons. London: Praeger. 2000.

Weinberger S. Intent to deceive: Can the science of deception detection help catch terrorists? Nature. 465:27. May 2010.

U.S. Government Accountability Office. TSA Should Limit Funding for Behavioral Detection Activities.  GAO-14-159. Washington, DC, 2013. http://www.gao.gov/products/GAO-14-159.

US House of Representatives. Behavioral Science and Security: Evaluating the TSA’s SPOT Program. Hearing Before the Subcommittee on Investigation and Oversight. Committee on Science, Space, and Technology. Serial 112-11. 6 April 2011.

All images designated as public domain

©2016

Squeezed: Four Decades of the Juice Myth

Matt Freeman DNP, MPH

Tamara

I used to live down the street from a juice stand named “Tamara.” The juice was mouth-watering: whatever combination you could imagine. The passion fruit had a perfect tang, the grapefruit was sour, the oranges were ripe and sweet. Situated at the corner of Dizengof Street and Ben Gurion Boulevard, “Tamara” was the ideal location in Tel Aviv. It was easily accessible en route to the beach, on the way back from the beach, or while out for a stroll.

“Don’t you wish we invented, Tamara?” asked my friend, Ariel. “They just have a shack, some fruit, and they hire good-looking students to serve up the juice for the equivalent of US $6.

Ariel and I would chuckle at the juice bar across the street, which was staffed by a schlubby guy. He ne never had any customers. The Tamara brand exuded refreshing youthfulness.

Tamara never claimed to be anything but a juice bar. They served juice that tasted good; just a refreshing treat. They offered no illusion that they were serving some sort of magical elixir. To my knowledge, Tamara does not serve wheat grass.

An acquaintance, Nadav, made an odd claim about Tamara. “It’s a good place for smokers,” he explained. “They need the anti-oxidants so they do not get cancer.” Although not a smoker himself, quitting smoking did not seem to be on Nadav’s radar as a disease prevention strategy. And that’s when I started to think more about juice.

 

“I’ve gone back to juicing.”

I greeted one of my patients recently, and I asked how he had been feeling. “I’m in much better shape. I’ve gone back to juicing.” Paging Nadav.

In fact, many have embraced versions of Nadav’s scientific misconceptions. Oprah Winfrey, Mehmet Oz, Gwynneth Paltrow, and others have extolled the virtues of “juicing” as the key to a healthy weight and a healthy life. Forget flu vaccine, hand washing, seatbelts, or other self-explanatory measures to protect one’s health. The answer lies in juice.

Where does this appeal come from? Why has it been so sustainable?

Juice and Cleansing

Juicing—retail or homemade juice consumption—is frequently associated with the notion of “cleansing.” There are pervasive references for the need to cleanse the liver and colon.

Amid other functions, the liver converts fat-soluble toxins into water-soluble versions, which can be tossed into the colon via bile or into the kidney for excretion in urine.

The colon removes water and absorbs some nutrients, particularly vitamin K, B12, thiamine, and ribovlavin.

The liver and colon do this regardless of what one eats or drinks. In fact, the concept of “detoxifying” the liver is not a possibility. The liver itself detoxifies, so it cannot be detoxified by an external source.

Catherine Collins, a National Health Service dietitian at St George’s Hospital in London put it best. “It’ll probably give you a chance to reassess your drinking habits if you’re drinking too much. But the idea that your liver somehow needs to be ‘cleansed’ is ridiculous.”

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The liver would actually be dysfunctional if it were to be detoxified.

Cleansing advocates argue that toxins accumulate and line the interior of the colon. Moreover, these invisible toxins are weight-bearing and cleansing therefore leads to weight loss.

This is false. The colon is actually full of perhaps trillions of microbes: bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In fact, the bacteria in the colon serve to produce a small but significant proportion of vitamins.

Bowel obstructions can form from a variety of sources, but this is really just a version of constipation: not an accumulation of “heavy toxins.” A total detoxification of the colon would be disastrous in terms of eliminating beneficial bacteria (so called “normal flora.”) Microbes, by definition, are “microscopic,” and so they just cannot be large enough to contribute to body weight.

 

The Origins of Fruit- and Juice-Based Diets

According to restaurant analyst Andrew Freeman, the most significant introduction of juicing in popular culture was the Beverly Hills Juice Club in 1975. (I know Andy Freeman. He is a great guy. But we are not related—at least as far as we know.) Coincident with a resurgence of American “vitamania” in the late 1970s, juice became allied with the notion that it is a gateway to missing nutrients, and thus a ticket to better health.

The Beverly Hills Juice Club also shortly predated the “Scarsdale Medical Diet,” introduced in 1978. A bestseller, the Complete Scarsdale Medical Diet was the first “ultra low calorie diet.” Although not juice-specific, the Scarsdale Medical Diet permitted “sliced fruit: as much as desired.”

 

The Complete Scardsale Medical Diet

The Complete Scardsale Medical Diet was the invention of Herman Tarnower MD, a cardiologist. Whether deliberate or not, Tarnower’s low-carbohydrate, low-calorie, but fruit-permissive diet was remarkably reinforcing. Diet followers enjoyed significant weight loss at the beginning of their adoption of the diet plan. It is, in fact, the same technique used by pretty much any popular diet: caloric restriction. By swapping half a grapefruit for a meal, Scarsdale dieters were limiting themselves to fewer than 1,000 kilocalories per day.

The body responds with as one might expect in a state of starvation: it digs into energy stored as glycogen. Glycogen itself is connected to water, so there is a substantial fluid loss during the first week or two. The grapefruit or unlimited sliced fruit are not magic: it is just fluid loss.

One of Tarnower’s diet followers was his girlfriend, Jean Harris. Headmistress of the Madeira School in McLean, Virginia, Harris was losing extra pounds on the Complete Scarsdale Diet.

There was one additional element that “completed” the diet: amphetamines. Tarnower was prescribing speed for Harris, which undoubtedly led to further weight loss. The drugs also contributed to her shooting Tarnower to death in 1980. (Not to name drop again, but Jean Harris and I grew up on the same street.)

Over the coming decades, various reincarnations of The Complete Scarsdale Medical Diet surfaced. All of them followed the same caloric restriction model.

Fruit and juice, however, came to the forefront with The Beverly Hills Diet.

 

The Beverly Hills Diet

Introduced in 1996, the Beverly Hills Diet was another bestseller. The diet was the invention of Judy Mazel, who had no formal education or credentials in nutrition or the health sciences.

The first ten days of the Beverly Hills Diet are limited to fruit. The diet actually encourages diarrhea, claiming that it is a sign that the diet is working. Just like the others, the fluid loss from diarrhea provides an immediate—but not sustainable—weight loss. The starvation-based approach of The Complete Scarsdale Medical Diet seems benign in comparison with a diarrhea-based diet. According to the World Health Organization, diarrhea is the seventh leading cause of death worldwide (1.5 million deaths per year.)

I cannot help but recall my friend Kristen’s stories from med school. She had gone on some sort of educational program to Ecuador. She referred to a particular item at the breakfast table as “diarrhea juice.”

The Beverly Hills Diet later gave way to the Atkins, South Beach, and Paleo diets, all of which are variations on the caloric restriction theme.

 

Juice as a Nutritional Superpower

The combination of fruit-based diets and the Beverly Hills Juice Club evolved into the idea of “juicing.” This became an accessible option as household juicers became more affordable and retailers began selling wider varieties of juice combinations. Pomegranate/açai/blueberry smoothies are available at convenience stores. A countertop juicer sells for under $50.

No longer the domain of the Beverly Hills Juice Club, “juicing” became an option for everyone.

Authors of diet books were quick to capitalize on the availability of juice. One name emerged above all others: Joseph Mercola DO.

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Dr. Mercola and the Juice Miracle

On his web site, http://www.mercola.com, Joseph Mercola extols may benefits of juice, particularly how it is preferable in comparison with whole fruits and vegetables. Mercola claims that juice is preferable because, “most people have impaired digestion as a result of making less-than-optimal food choices over many years.” Mercola does not explain the pathophysiology behind his claim: would French fry consumption in the past lead to an inability to digest a banana?

Mercola’s argument is that juice permits one to “pre-digest” nutrients thereby facilitating their absorption. The notion of “pre-digestion” plays upon the same idea that previous dietary indiscretions are irreparable, and that one must consume nutrients in liquid form only.

Mercola has some particularly bizarre claims about juice. He states that it increases energy by “optimizing” the body’s pH. The acid/base balance in the body is complex and constantly adaptive system. The stomach’s buffering mechanisms allow juice to remain acidic in the stomach, but this does go beyond the stomach. If the stomach could not buffer juice, our bodies would be in miserable acidic states. Optimal pH is maintained by the body regardless of what one eats or drinks.

Mercola’s acid/base claim connects with his even more curious assertion that juice provides the body with “structured water,” and “living water.” In an insult to those who have studied the most basic chemistry class, Mercola explains that juice comes as H2O2 not H2O.

H2O2 is hydrogen peroxide. If one were to drink it, it just turns to foam, and eventually just to water. Water does not come in living or structured forms; water is always one oxygen atom and two hydrogen atoms.

 

Juice and Immunity

Mercola argues that juice “supercharges” the immune system, implying that a hyper-responsive immune system is favorable.

Immunity actually only comes two ways: deficient and adequate. There is no “supercharge” to the immune system. In fact, an inappropriately responsive immune response occurs in autoimmune diseases, in which the body attacks itself. These include systemic lupus erythematosis, scleroderma, Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, and others. The “supercharge” is to one’s detriment. Allergies, for example, a result of a “supercharged immune system.”

Commercial juice retailers are a bit more subdued. Jamba Juice argues that its Zinc and Antioxidant Boost “helps support your immune system” with a footnote, “These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. These products are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.” Tropicana omits the disclaimer, stating that an eight-ounce glass of its orange juice, “helps to support a healthy immune system.”

The only plausible way to argue “immune system support” from orange juice is that one might be spared from getting scurvy.

Mercola has a strange an futuristic explanation: “…juice supercharges your immune system” with “phytochemicals and biophotonic light energy.” I do not even know how to respond to that other than by asking, “what?”

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An antioxidant “boost” is not just dubious, it is dangerous. Nadav’s “smokers need juice” theory is problematic because antioxidants can actually exacerbate lung cancer and increase the risk of death from cardiovascular disease. Antioxidants were long believed to reduce certain activity on the surface of cancerous cells. It seemed like a good idea until the Carotene and Retinol Efficacy Trial (CARET), in which people who were at high risk for lung cancer (smokers, those with a history of asbestos exposure) were given beta-carotene supplements. The CARET trial stopped before its planned end date because those participants who received antioxidant supplements had more cases of lung cancer. (Sorry to break the news to Nadav.)

 

Juice and Alzheimer Disease

Mercola states on his web site, that juice can “Support your brain health. People who drank juices (fruit and vegetable) more than three times per week, compared to less than once a week, were 76 percent less likely to develop Alzheimer’s disease, according to the Kame Project

On the surface, the Kame project looks like a powerful endorsement for juice. In a study of 1,836 Japanese Americans in King County, Washington, who were followed for nine years. Those participants who drank juice once or twice per week had a hazard ratio of developing probable Alzheimer disease of 0.26. Those who did not report juice consumption had a hazard ratio of 0.84.

But a hazard ratio isn’t a measure of relative risk. Relative risk is the probability of an event occurring in an exposed group (juice drinkers) compared with an unexposed group (those who did not drink juice twice a week). For example, smokers have a relative risk of 20 of developing lung cancer: their risk twenty times that of nonsmokers.

Hazard ratios express the rate of an event occurring in one population (juice drinkers) versus a control population (non juice drinkers.) A test subject in a group with the higher hazard ratio has greater odds of reaching a specific endpoint first. In other words, the juice drinkers in the study had lower odds of developing Alzheimer Disease before those in the non-juice drinking group. A hazard ratio does not explain the extent of treatment benefit, so the dose of juice was not explained.

Furthermore, the Kame study only controlled for tobacco and alcohol use and a particular genotype found in Alzheimer Disease (ApoE). It did not control for significant predictors of dementia like family history or head trauma.

As an epidemiologist, one looks for certain key elements in research, such as a dose-response relationship and biologic plausibility. Mercola and the Kame study do not offer either of these core components of robust research.

Mercola’s claim that juice prevents Alzheimer Disease is not supported by the Kame study. The only possible claim is that there is evidence in one trial that drinking juice twice per week might forestall Alzheimer Disease in a specific population.

 

Joseph Mercola, the Questionable Advocate for Juicing

Perhaps Mercola is not the best advocate for juicing. Mercola was censured by the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) in 2005 for making illegal claims about supplements. He then received a warning one year later, and the FDA warned him again in 2011. One would think that a single action form the FDA would lead one to back off, but Mercola’s supplement and book sales must be so lucrative that he is willing to look beyond censure.

Although his license remains active without sanctions, Mercola reputedly had a three-year battle with the Illinois Department of Financial and Professional Regulation, and he stopped practicing in 2012. In addition to his juice claims, Mercola opposes fluoridation, screening mammography, dental amalgams (fillings), and vitamin K administration to newborns. Although there are some debates about the appropriate ages and intervals for mammograms, these are not controversial subjects in public health.

Mercola’s allies are similarly problematic. His endorsements from a Dr. Andrew Saul are worrisome. Saul claims to have a “nontraditional PhD in ethology.” His other colleague, a Dr. Abram Hoffer, supported the use of niacin to treat schizophrenia. The research was later discredited because the diagnostic test to establish a diagnosis of schizophrenia was called into question.

Perhaps the juice industry would benefit from solid research rather than “expert” opinion from supplement profiteers like Joseph Mercola.

 

Is Juice Healthy?

Juice is not exactly a low-calorie, low-carbohydrate choice compared with soft drinks.

250 mL Serving Size

Carbohydrates kCal
Apple juice 28.97 110
Coca-Cola 35.18 105
Orange Juice 27.20 118
Pineapple Juice 32.18 140

 

One could argue that juice contains vitamins, which are not found in soft drinks. But a serving of apple juice, for example, contains only four percent of the recommended daily allowance (RDA) of vitamin C. It really is just sugar and water. It is true that other juices fair better in terms of vitamin C content, but vitamin C is found in a wide range of other foods contained in the typical Western diet.

Fresh-squeezed juice, however delicious, is also troublesome from a food safety standpoint. In fact, one of the first cases I was assigned as an epidemiology student was an outbreak of salmonella at a Florida resort. The CDC referred to outbreak location as “Theme Park A” (no prizes for guessing: it is in Orlando and has a mouse mascot.) The acid in juice was deemed to be protective, but the sweeter nature of fresh-squeezed orange juice meant that it was less acidic and thus less likely to contain salmonella. Outbreaks of Escherichia coli 0157:H7 and cryptosporidia have struck apple juice and apple cider. So much for “detoxification.”

 

Make no mistake, juice is delicious. I love fresh-squeezed juice from Tamara, I take the risk and buy unpasteurized orange juice—enjoying a small glass with my coffee in the morning. But it is not a detoxifying superfood. It is a nice dose of sugar when I wake up. But I am under no illusions. I could just as easily have Coca-Cola, it is not going to lead to weight loss, and it certainly is not going to detoxify anything.

 

 

References

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Cook KA, Dobbs TE, Hlady W, et al. Outbreak of Salmonella Serotype Hartford Infections Associated With Unpasteurized Orange Juice. JAMA. 1998;280(17):1504-1509. doi:10.1001/jama.280.17.1504.

Dai Q, Borenstein AR, Wu Y, Jackson JC, Larson EB. Fruit and Vegetable Juices and Alzheimer’s Disease: The Kame Project. The American journal of medicine. 2006;119(9):751-759.

Fatsecret.com https://www.fatsecret.com/ Retrieved 23 December 2015.

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MacVean M. Juicing Trend Still Going Strong in 2015. The Los Angeles Times. 29 January 2015. http://www.latimes.com/health/la-he-juice-20150131-story.html. Retrieved 19 December 2015.

Mercola J. Health Benefits of Juicing. http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2015/04/11/health-benefits-juicing.aspx

Mercola J. Juicing : How Healthy is It?http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2014/04/19/juicing-benefits.aspx Retrieved 20 December 2015.

Mercola, Joseph. Malpractice settlement 23 December 204, $387,925. https://www.idfpr.com/Applications/ProfessionProfile/ProfileDetails.aspx Retrieved 21 December 2015.

Mohammadi D. You can’t detox your body. It’s a myth. So how do you get healthy? The Guardian. 5 December 2014. http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/dec/05/detox-myth-health-diet-science-ignorance. Retrieved 20 December 2015.

Omenn GS. Chemoprevention of lung cancers: lessons from CARET, the beta-carotene and retinol efficacy trial, and prospects for the future. 2007. European Journal of Cancer Prevention. 16:184-191.

Saul, A. http://www.andrewsaul.com/bio/. Retrieved 21 December 2015.

Tropicana. http://www.tropicana.com/#/trop_healthbenefits/hbMain.swf Retrieved 20 December 2015.

Watson R & Hodgekiss A. Fruit juice should not count in our five-a-day because some versions ‘contain as much sugar as fizzy drinks. Daily Mail. 10 February 2014
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/health/article-2555758/Fruit-juice-NOT-count-five-day-versions-contain-sugar-fizzy-drinks.html#ixzz3vCiNcpyB. Retrieved 23 December 2015

Wilson J. Juicing Pros and Cons. CNN 11 April 2014. http://www.cnn.com/2014/04/11/health/juicing-pros-cons/ Retrieved 20 December 2015.

World Health Organization. Top Ten Causes of Death http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs310/en/ Retrieved 20 December 2015

 

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