I led a school trip to Israel, flying El-Al. We knew that there would be extensive security checks and arrived early.
Anyway it took 3 hours to get through. Each member of the party was asked questions by one agent, then by another agent, then there was an agent conference - then a third agent asked more questions.
The pupils coped, but I quite enjoyed it - since all the agents were female and good-looking enough to represent Israel in the Miss World competition!
Having arrived in Australia, as I approached Customs I saw a giant sign which said
"The following are completely prohibited and any attempt to bring them into Australia will result in criminal proceedings and deportation:
live plants
seeds"
I was pretty tired after 20 hours on a plane, so I declared a tin of boiled sweets. :smack:
Fortunately the Customs officer just waved me through.
I played in a Dutch chess tournament and travelled back with the English Grandmaster who won the overall event. Since it was sponsored by a Dutch Steel conglomerate, the first prize was a massive steel trophy.
As we approached security, he offered to let me carry the trophy - wow, what an honour!
So I carried this thing through the metal detector :eek: - you have never heard anything like the noise that resulted.
Instantly we had armed police, customs officers, security guards and journalists converging on us.
Fortunately they were mainly chess players and saw the funny side. In fact the GM and I had to sign a few autographs.
Leaving Zaire (now Congo Kinshasha) from a remote airport in the eastern part of the country 1993, I was ushered into a small office where the official on duty said that my papers were no good for leaving via that airport (even though that’s where I had entered a week before). Instead I would have to go a city a few hundred miles away that had recently been the site of rioting that had burned much of the city. Of course, it turned out that it was possible to resolve the difficulty by the payment of a small “service fee” amounting to about $10.
Leaving Lagos, Nigeria, earlier in the same trip, as I passed through immigration the agent, with my passport in hand, whispered “You have something for me?” As I rummaged in my wallet, she handed my passport back to me before I gave her anything. I grabbed it, whispered “No!”, and dashed through the exit doors. (I figured she wouldn’t leave her post to pursue me into the departure area just to collect a small bribe.)
Coming into the Panama Canal Zone from the US in 1977, I had a can of protein supplement powder in my backpack. (This was for feeding experiments for my research on hummingbirds at a research station there.) During the flight, the can had popped open, spreading white funny smelling powder over all my clothes. It took me a few minutes to explain what it was. Fortunately they believed me.
Crossing the border from the Republic of Ireland into Northern Ireland, quite a few years ago when things were bad, riding a motorcycle with expired New York license plates, at a border crossing (in Monaghan) that was (unbeknownst to me) often used to smuggle bad stuff from the Republic into N.I., using a name (my real name) that was apparently the same (it’s a very common name) as someone who was wanted in N.I. and was at least suspected of being, if not known to be, a Provo and guilty of numerous acts of violence.
This involved customs, but not at the border. In Paraguay, a few miles from the Brazilian border, my bus was pulled over for a customs inspection (they must have received a tip) and it was found to be carrying a ton or so of contraband sugar, smuggled in from Brazil. The bus was confiscated, and the passengers just told to wait and flag down whatever buses came down the road.
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[li]Family vacation in the 1970s. Crossing from the US to Canada on the way to Winnipeg, and points beyond. A simple border crossing on a two-lane road. Canadian Customs asked a few questions, my father answered and we were through with no issues. Two college-type guys were behind us in a VW Bug. Canadian Customs ordered both out of the vehicle and strip-searched them right there in the middle of the road. I forgot to mention it was probably around 8am and it was still a bit chilly (August).[/li][/ul]
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[li]1981. Returning from England on a family vacation. On the flight home was a bunch of high school kids, probably a class field trip. They were rude to the flight attendants the entire flight back to the US. Things like snapping their fingers to get the attention of flight attendants, not staying quiet when asked, the usual thing that age group does. O’Hare US Customs. O’Hare is always a treat and did not disappoint. While the rest of us passengers got the usual once-over in Customs, every one of the high school group, including adults, had their bags opened and scrutinized to the max. All males had to lift up their shirts and pull down their pants, in full view of everyone in Customs Hall. A flight attendant in our line just smiled and said something like, “This is why you always treat the flight crew with respect.”[/li][/ul]
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[li]Mid-90s. Flying into Sydney from Los Angeles. As we all got off the 747 on the way to Customs, we were separated into groups of about 25 people. Each group then proceeded one group at a time down a long hallway to Customs, then stopped, told to put all carryons in the middle of the hallway and stand next to the wall, away from the carryons. Out came the drug dogs to sniff the carryons. As each group passed dog sniffs, we picked up up carryons and proceeded to Passport control and Customs hall to pick up our checked bags.[/li][/ul]
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[li]Dallas-Forth Worth. 2003. Not Customs but TSA. Did a stint as part of the Columbia Shuttle Recovery now returning home. The time was within days of the Iraq war so TSA was on pins and needles. I got stopped because the carryon X-ray produced a weird image. It seems my backpack had a sealed packet of about 40 AA batteries that looked just like a box of 30-06 ammo. They asked why was I traveling and to where. When they found out why and who employed me, I was waived through with no more problems. The flight home was uneventful, with about two dozen armed federal agents aboard, also going home. None of the other passengers ever realized they were flying probably the safest flight of their lives.[/li][/ul]
My customs experiences are boring. The first time I went to New York (flying from Amsterdam) I had to unpack my duffel bag and the officer massaged the plastic bag I had put my toothpaste etc in in case of spilling. I offered to open it but that wasn’t necessary; the massaging continued. That was the only time I flew outside the EU when I still had long hair. After I cut it, customs never showed any interest in me.
Well, except the time when I was about to board the return flight from Minneapolis and customs (I think?) agents were in the jet bridge and asked everyone if they were carrying $10k or more in cash. Me: “I wish!” Her: “Oh, not today, huh?”
Fun at the security check: I had just cleared out my place in Holland and flying to Spain with an enormous amount of crap that I didn’t want to throw away. I was running late so I couldn’t check my bag but at checkin they said that I could just bring it as carry-on. That was 25 minutes before departure, and they told me the plane wouldn’t wait for me. So I elbowed my way to the front of the security line, put the bag in the machine and pretty much ran though the metal detector. Which promptly went off. Did it again, slowly this time. Still went off. But now the woman behind the X-ray machine was very suspicious about a big metal thing in the bag. I explained its purpose, but she remained highly skeptical. My stuff went through the machine several times and I had to unpack half my bag. Eventually I got the all clear, reluctantly. A colleague asked what was up, and she pointed at the offending item, saying she’d never seen anything like it. Colleague: “Oh, that’s a guitar stand.” That’s what I had been trying to tell her the whole time…
Eventually I was in my seat five minutes before departure.
One more interesting thing: flying from Brazil to Spain, we had to show our passports at the door before we were allowed off the plane.
Coming home from an exchange program to Japan, one of my classmates (18 years old) had three bottles of Sake in his suitcase and was worried they’d get confiscated since he was underage (in both Japan and the US). Indeed, he got pulled over and the Sake bottles taken out of his suitcase…and given to him as carry on. They didn’t care about how old he was–they just didn’t want the bottles to explode in the unpressurized cargo compartment
Years ago my son brought his grandfather’s massive old-school folding knife for Boy Scouts show and tell, and then he chucked it into some random bag. Years later that random bag was pressed into emergency duty for an international flight, and my wife carried it into Logan Airport security.
For some reason she doesn’t find the story as funny as I do, but in fairness they did question her for more than half an hour.
[QUOTE=glee;]
I played in a Dutch chess tournament and travelled back with the English Grandmaster who won the overall event. Since it was sponsored by a Dutch Steel conglomerate, the first prize was a massive steel trophy.
As we approached security, he offered to let me carry the trophy - wow, what an honour!
So I carried this thing through the metal detector :eek: - you have never heard anything like the noise that resulted.
Instantly we had armed police, customs officers, security guards and journalists converging on us.
Fortunately they were mainly chess players and saw the funny side. In fact the GM and I had to sign a few autographs.
[/QUOTE]
Wait, wait…you played in Wijk an Zee and traveled with Nigel Short? How is this not its own thread!? (or maybe it was Dr. Nunn?)
Catching a flight from Calcutta to Bangalore to catch an international flight home after a month touring around India, I wasn’t expecting to need anything in my pack so it was locked up tight and only had my personal gear in it (I’d already sent all my purchases home via post).
I put my pack through security and when it came out of the x-ray machine it was pulled aside and I was called over. It took a few minutes to figure out what the issue was, during which time a few guards armed with old WW2 era British .303 rifles came over to observe. :o
Turns out you can’t have batteries actually inside electronic equipment in your luggage and I had a small head-lamp with three AAA cells in it. After unlocking everything and digging around to find it I simply opened it up and dropped the batteries into my pack along with the lamp, closed up and was on my way.
My father was flying home from South Africa once and bought a small packet of biltong to eat on the plane. Waiting in line in customs back in Australia a sniffer dog went crazy over his day-pack. He’d put the empty packet in an outer pocket and the dog liked the smell of the dried meat. The handler told him it would probably be similar to the reward treats they train the dogs with.
When my daughter was 8, she had a realistic-looking plastic snake that she carried around a lot. She had it in her carry-on when we flew from Sydney to Adelaide. The security officer didn’t like it at all, and wouldn’t let us take it on the plane. She said it was a dangerous item because my daughter could “throw it at someone and give them a heart attack”. Luckily, we had time to turn my partner’s carry-on into a checked bag and put the toy in that.
I’m not sure it was ‘exciting’, but I did have one somewhat memorable customs experience.
We were coming back from a week in London. We went downstairs at the hotel for breakfast before heading to the airport, and I grabbed some fruit so that I’d have something to eat later in the day. About 14 hours later, we deplane in San Francisco and go through customs. the officer asks if we brought any produce with us (not sure if that’s actually a US Customs issue or a State of California one), and being the law-abiding citizen I am I say “Oh yeah…I have that apple from this morning!”. I’m informed that I’ll need to discard it, so I open my bag…but I can’t find it. I must have spend 2 or 3 full minutes trying to find that piece of contraband fruit, before the customs agent had pity on me and told me not to worry about it.
Of course, as soon as we got home, it was about the first thing I came across as I was unpacking. To make sure I couldn’t be caught and convicted of International Produce Smuggling, I ate the evidence.
Not customs, just pre-flight search: I got a metal toy car for one of my grandsons, and put it in my carry-on bag. The TSA inspector ran my bag through a couple of times, then brought me and the bag over for a close look. She was completely bewildered when she found the questionable object - apparently the toy VW microbus looked exactly like a big ol’ knife on the x-ray display. It was really quiet at the time, with no other travelers in line and the TSA agent and I got a good laugh over it - she even ran the bag through again with the toy car so I could see, and it really did look just like a folded knife.
My son was born in Switzerland in 1967. We came home six weeks later. They still required smallpox vaccination in those days to enter the US. We had a letter from his pediatrition saying that vaccination was ill-advised for him because he had exzema and it could cause serious side-effects. Unfortunately, the letter was in German. We had vaccination certificates for my wife, my daughter and me. We had him in a carrier, kind of a small basket with handles. In those days, there were three separate examinations in three different rooms, for customs, immigration control, and health control. So the immigration guy knew from the passports that there were four of us, but the health officer didn’t. We gave him the three vaccination cards and I had the letter in my hand ready to give it to him. But he didn’t notice the basket and he waved us on. As we were leaving the room, my wife looked back for some reason and he was looking at us quizzically, but didn’t stop us. It was a fairly tense moment, though. Shortly after that smallpox was declared eliminated and that requirement dropped.
The next story is amusing, not exciting. Crossing into the US by car, the customs guy asked where were all born. So I said my wife and I were born in the US, my daughter also, the next one in Switzerland and the youngest in Canada. He replied, “What are you, a professor or something?”
I pled guilty and he waved us on.
Mostly when I cross by car the officials are very pleasant. But I remember one a couple years ago. It was a bright sunny day but I knew to take my sunglasses off as we approached the booth. She asked a lot of stupid questions. Why do they want to know how long I am staying when I have a US passport and can stay as long as I like? Anyway, she waved us on and I put my sunglasses back on before leaving the customs area. She freaked and started screaming that I was not allowed to wear sunglasses while in the customs area. So I pulled them off, drove 10 feet and stopped again to put them on. What bug was up her tight ass?
My father told me an amusing story about US customs from before I was born, apparently my mom wanted to bring a bunch of meat products from germany(blutwurst etc) which was not allowed. So she got the genius idea to smuggle them inside packages of other stuff.
Well they discovered it in customs and made a big goddamn commotion, then he said later when they were sitting in the office of the head customs officer he told them they thought they had discovered a big drug smuggling operation and were disappointment it was just meat. And told him do you know that IF this was cocaine you’d be heading to prison right now, and then he said well but its not cocaine.
This went back and forth lol.
EDIT:I was once on a flight to Miami from the Caribbean and there was a fellow passenger with dread locks wearing a shirt with marijuana leaf pattern, he got pulled aside in the USA. Not sure if that was a protest or he was a decoy for someone else or what hah.
Last time I flew was the first time I flew with kids. I was a bit frazzled, which is why, even after the security guards approached me individually to ask me if I was carrying any sort of blade, I forgot about the tiny pocketknife I have attached to my keyring and told them I wasn’t. They were very understanding, but one of them still snapped on the blue glove and got up close and personal with me all over, while my wife and two daughters watched from fifty feet away.
I have a replacement pocketknife on the keyring now, but I doubt I’ll make the same mistake again.
Over the years I have traveled to Rio de Janeiro frequently to visit family.
On each of those visits my wife and I would stand before a post with a button on it and a red and green light. The customs inspector would say “Please press the button” and I would do so. The green light always came on and he would wave us through.
The exact mechanics of that button were a topic of discussion among Brazilians. In theory, it was a random coin flip that decided if you got the wave of the hand or the rubber glove. Since you pressed the button, you couldn’t blame the guy.
Others said that the guy had a hidden button he would press if he didn’t like your face, and then you would get the red light.
What would happen if you had the misfortune of triggering the red light was also up for debate, and over the years the stories grew to legendary proportions.
Several years later we were going to visit and I walked up to the post and pressed the button. To my horror, the red light came on. Immediately I envisioned us being separated in small dirty rooms where unpleasant people would tear apart our luggage and possibly make us stand around in our underwear.
The guy smiled and said “Just put your bags through there…” and pointed to a belt that went through an x-ray machine. That’s it. No search. All “red” meant was that my bags got x-rayed again.
Last time we went there was no button to press at all; it was just a distant memory, like the fichas (tokens) they used to use in the pay phones.
In the mid 1960’s, going from Duluth. Minnesota to Thunder Bay, Ontario for a horse show, with a heavily loaded truck with a driving carriage tied on top, and a trailer with 6 horses pulled behind the truck. Included in the load were about 6 bales of hay (enough to feed the horses for the time at the show – you don’t want to risk show horses feeding them different forage) – not concealed – several of the bales were also tied on top of the truck.
Canadian Border Patrol didn’t care about anything else, but got fussy about the hay – ‘where is your license to import commercial agricultural products?’. Mom argued with them for quite a while. Couldn’t convince them that this wasn’t a commercial product – it was all for our own consumption. Finally Mom got upset that the trailer was sitting in the blazing July sun and the horses were getting overheated, so she said that she was leaving, and they could send the Mounties after her if they wanted. Or just tell the RCMP Mounties unit that would be leading the Grand Entry at the show to arrest her. And then she drove off.
We made it to the show in Thunder Bay without incident. And the Mounties, who were actually stabled next to us at the show, just laughed about the ‘pompous twits’ at the border crossing.
