an old memory

I am at the Vienna airport right now, trying to figure out this European key board first, so forgive me if I write weird. I had to imagine all my good memories to make my 8 hour-3chair bed-backpack pillow-sweater blanket-sleep better. At Dulles airport I watched my suit cases get escorted to the x-ray machine as the lady who pushed my cart bitched at the receptionist that " oh my god, another selective one". I realized we, axis of evil citizens, are referred to as “selective ones” to be politically correct or to have a slang to ease the conversations and eliminate the stupid body language and the dirty stares to inform one another about the presence of an Iranian in front of the counter. I also watched my boarding pass get labeled with "ssss" to just 5 minutes later realize I was marked for Selective Secondary Screening and Searching. The “ssss" was the time when I watched the anonymous police with no name on his name tag, just numbers, searched every hole of my bag and pointed to the loose steel rope that is used to carry it. He asked me with anger: "what is this? And when I tried to put it back in place and explain what it was, he pushed my hand away as I was some kind of a threat. I sat down on the special chair for "SSSS" people and observed him as he destroyed the arrangements in my bag, wiping a detector fabric to every single inch of my personal items. Oh, I forgot to mention the X-ray process. I guess that was a lot less disturbing as the rude SS screener who smiled at the end and told me to have a good flight with an obvious sarcastic tone. During the x-ray, my new silver suit case was opened. The same fabric that was used later was rubbed to the silver suit case. As I was patiently waiting for the humiliation to end, the old guy who was doing the search looked up to find the owner of the suitcase, I nodded as a sign of ownership, waiting for him to say something nasty or to say get ready for strip search. He calmly said the glass on the picture frame is broken, with no apology. I simply said okay! And smiled because the broken glass on the frame that Nahal gave me with Aidin's picture for our grandfather seemed nothing comparing to being marked as a potential ”you know what", boom! I have to go because they are closing the internet café and my flight will soon depart to mother land, where maybe the kisses of my loved ones would calm me down a bit. I am reading the Jessica Stern book, to understand what caused the almost strip search of a person who simply wants to go back home.