Nothing To Declare, Eh?

20 Dec

customsI’ve always been terrified of getting in trouble. I suppose that’s why whenever I travel; I get nervous going through Customs. I once had a drug-sniffing dog hit my leg with its tail and I let out a squeak of terror. In these situations my Catholic guilt kicks in and I start thinking of all the things I might, maybe, possibly have done wrong. I do this until I convince myself that perhaps I am smuggling cocaine in my rectum. I don’t know? Those eight hours I was asleep are sort of unaccounted for. I should confess just to be sure.

[Note: That was a joke. Do not confess to being a drug mule or they will conduct a full cavity search. Unless you are, in fact, smuggling cocaine in your rectum in which case you should be ashamed of yourself!]

On a recent return trip from Canada my sister and I had to go through customs separately.  As the official looked at my passport and asked the obligatory questions, I grew increasingly nervous and forgot simple details, like my full name. He looked at me over his reading glasses, but eventually returned my passport.

I’m not sure if the customs official gave the agents a signal or if they just have a policy of stopping everyone that looks a bit twitchy and sweaty, but when I walked away from the booth the guards called me over.

“Miss”, they said, “we need to search your bag, eh” (ok, I added the “eh” for effect). It was for a “random” search. Funny, though, how I was the only one being randomly searched.

I needed to signal my sister so that she wouldn’t wonder where I had gone, but she wasn’t looking at me.  In my growing panic, I started walking back to the booth and screamed out her name. The guards must’ve thought I was making a run for it because they grabbed me by the arm.

What was meant to be a head’s up to my sister resulted in her watching her baby sister getting dragged off by two customs agents into a windowless room.  In a foreign country.  No big deal, right?

Once in the windowless room, I saw the best looking Canadian man I had ever seen (with the possible exception of professional hockey player, Claude Giroux). He was in charge of inspecting my suitcase and purse. Canada Customs

As soon as he opened the suitcase I could’ve died.  WHY had I thrown all my used panties on top? Why couldn’t they be tucked, unseen, into a corner? Or better yet, burned?

As I reached for the suitcase to move them out of the way I was again seized upon by the two agents and warned against touching anything during an official search. Don’t worry! I will never touch anything ever again!!!  By the way, I now have a fresh pair of soiled knickers. Do you want to inspect those, as well?

Once the gorgeous agent was done fondling all of my clothes, he closed the bag and told me I was free to go.  He then smiled and said it is customary to stop all sweet and innocent-looking women {wink}.

Oh, you. Go on! {blush}

As for my sister, I eventually found her pacing back and forth near the security line frantically searching for me over the crowd. Nothing brings sisters together like successfully avoiding an international incident, eh?


3 Responses to “Nothing To Declare, Eh?”

  1. saramo... December 20, 2012 at 7:51 am #

    I get kind of uneasy too, eventhough I never have anything of their interest :), and anoys me that after they move all the things around, it is so hard to close the suitcase agan !!!!

  2. Kristin December 20, 2012 at 9:45 am #

    I panic at customs too! I don’t know what it is about those guys and gals but they make me crazy nervous.

    • awkwardcharm December 20, 2012 at 9:48 am #

      It’s ok, Kristin {soothingly stroking hair} The bad customs people can’t hurt you now.

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