Most Excitement ... Going Through Customs?

[Malthus]

Like the title says. What's the most entertaining, frightening, bizzare moments you have ever had, going through customs?

I can think of three I've had:

1. Going through Israeli customs with half-size pastels in my carry-on. Who knew that on the x-ray, they look exactly like a row of bullets? Well, now I do. The hard way. 

2. Going through Thai customs. All seemed normal - the bags for stowing go through the machine, are checked, etc. Then, they slap an easily removed sticker on the bags and hand them back to you to carry through a completely open, unsecured area onto the plane. You hand the bags to be stowed to the guy putting them into the cargo. Presumably, they just trust that you don't just stuff them with bombs, guns, very small illegal immigrants, etc. in the meantime.

3. Going through customs at a stop-over in Japan, my wife and I were confronted by an extremely agitated security guard who spoke no English. He kept repeating the same word to us, in increasingly angry tone of voice: "Ash! Ash!"

I looked around, in vain, for some impromptu interpreter. None was to be seen. Finally, I figured out what he wanted: he was asking if we were smuggling "hash", i.e., did we have illegal drugs?

I said "no", and the transformation was remarkable; he broke into a great big smile, instantly dropped his angry demeanour, and respectfully helped us on our way. Evidently, all that was necessary was my say-so. 

[mongers]

When customs meant something, carrying a then very hard to find bottle of blue label Smirnoff and managing to drop and smash it within 20 yards of the other side of border.   

[Jacob]

There was the time I tried to hitch-hike to New York with a buddy and we got turned back at the border. I think we were probably a little too alternative for them. I mean, I had my misgivings though my buddy had made the trip a few times already. I think the clincher was that I was not Canadian, so there was more questioning to process and well... we looked like punk rock trouble. So we got turned back.

There was the other fun time, shortly after the family had moved to Canada. My buddy from Denmark had come to visit us and we were doing a road trip from Ottawa to the Maritimes. We were going to do a shortcut through... Maine? I don't know, one of those States. My buddy, we were 14 or 15, when asked said he had a visa to the US; he'd just been to New York with his dad before visiting us. It turned out, when they checked, that he did not in fact have a valid visa. This did not impress the border agent at all and he yelled at my step dad, threatened to confiscate and/or completely disassemble the car, and turned us back.

Then there was the time I was returning to Canada from Europe. I was 16, and had bought a switchblade in Amsterdam because I thought it was badass. Switchblades are, of course, illegal in Canada. On my return I learned that Canada Customs and Immigration were working to rule - meaning long lineups , in part because they followed regs and were going through everyone's luggage. Or maybe it was the luggage of 1 in 10, but in any case I got chosen for a thorough check. Luckily, the lady doing the search was very pregnant and tired of doing what she was doing and I was friendly and sympathetic, so she went through my stuff fairly cursorily and failed to find the knife. The stupid thing broke shortly thereafter, too, so all that for nothing.

My wife and I got busted by a drug dog in Vancouver as well, bringing in some Chinese sausage. It was a "you like it so much, so a relative bought a bunch for you to take home" kind of situation on the way to the airport in China, and though I didn't want to bring it we did; it would have been rude to refuse. In the airport, I notice the drug sniffing dog (cute little thing) walk by and I point it out. My wife - lacking any kind of deception skills and clearly not being suited for a life of crime - walks to pick up the bag with the sausage and walks away from the dog (which had already moved on) in the most conspicuous way possible, staring at the dog and looking obviously guilty. The handler notices, and calls the dog over to sniff the bag... and the dog is very interested, because, well, it's poorly packaged sausage. So we get sent to the agriculture guy for a stern lecture and the threat of a fine, wasting another hour in the airport after a 14 hour journey. It felt like being sent to the principal's office.

[Eddie Teach]

Driving west on I-8, had to go through a customs checkpoint due to proximity to Mexico I guess. They confiscated a house plant because it had fire ants.

[Josephus]

I was strip searched by Israeli customs. At one time I was in my underwear with some head security guy asking me where my passport was. And I'm like, "It's not in my pants that's for sure."

[Admiral Yi]

What exactly did the guy say when he turned you back Jacob?

I was awoken on the train from Amsterdam to Copenhagen by some uniformed dudes going through the clothes in my bag, searching for ganja.

Going in and out of Hungary was surprisingly low key.

[Jacob]

What exactly did the guy say when he turned you back Jacob?

Which time? The hitchhiking one or the friend-with-no-visa time?

[crazy canuck]

My favourite experience was hitchhiking from West Berlin through East Germany back to West Germany.  After hitching the ride just outside the city limits I learned why the fellow seemed so pleased to have picked me up.  About 2km from the border between West Berlin and East Germany the lineup of cars started.  It was a gradual uphill slope.  The border crossing was so slow that everyone turned off their vehicles and pushed.  In my case I pushed while the driver sat in the car.

When we finally got to the border guard neither he nor the border guard spoke much English.  The guard got quite irrate with me and kept pointing to a document I apparently didnt have which authorized transit.   But there really wasnt anything to be done.  He couldnt send me back and the driver wanted to leave so the guard just  me go through.  Three months later the wall came down.  This was my little contribution. 

[Jacob]

Oh and another, more recent one...

My wife had just gotten approved for her permanent residence status in Canada. To actually get it, you have to "land" as an immigrant and be processed by customs and immigration at the border.

So you do this thing called "flag poling" where you go to the US and come right back - you basically go turn around at the flagpole and come back, hence the name.

We set off to a day-trip to Point Roberts - which is a road crossing by car. We don't have a car, so we take the bus to the border and walk across. It takes a bit, but eventually we make it a big burly moustached border control guy. Wife hands over her PRC passport to the gentleman and says, with a big smile, "I don't have a visa!"

His face expression drops, from benevolently disinterested to decidedly unfriendly. I have visions of my wife being dragged off and being interrogated as an illegal immigrant as I blurt out "she's flagpoling! We're not trying to get into the US, we're going straight back."

He understands and all is well. He tells her that he can't let her in this time, but that it's not a "refused entry" and that she is very welcome to visit the US in the future, as long as she gets the right visa first.

So all is well, but for about 30 seconds it felt distinctly uncomfortable.

[Admiral Yi]

Which time? The hitchhiking one or the friend-with-no-visa time?

Hitchhiking.

[Razgovory]

Woman there kept asking if I was carrying any "Vee-pons".  Had no idea what the hell she was on about.  I just said no.  Turns out if she was saying "weapons".

[Monoriu]

Not really customs, but it was exciting.

I went to Berkeley a few months after 911, and security for flights going to the US was tight.  My then girlfriend (now wife) would visit me a few weeks later, so I packed...stuff in the luggage.  There was an ad hoc table manned by security officers that thoroughly searched each piece of luggage by hand before I checked in my luggage.  Not a real problem, until my parents showed up and insisted in following me every step of the way.  Just imagine the officers asking what this and that was in front of them. 

Just before my turn though, the security people somehow all disappeared.  So I just checked in normally without the search.

[Tonitrus]

Crossing the border into Canada on my first tour to Alaska...

Me and my parents were caravaning, and we drove out past Spokane, WA into Idaho and went to cross the border from ID to Canada south of Creston, BC.  My parents cross first, and are waved through, no problems.

When I go through,

"Brings you to Canada?"
"Moving up to Alaska on behalf of the U.S. military".
"What do you do in the military?"
- I decide to be honest, "Intelligence".   
"Please pull up here to the left and come inside".

I then spend about 30 minutes being interrogated on every location I've been stationed, etc.  And they finally decide I am not a terribly dangerous operative, or vagabond, and let me proceed. 

[Eddie Teach]

Mono, what was it you didn't want your parents to see? 

[Jacob]

Which time? The hitchhiking one or the friend-with-no-visa time?

Hitchhiking.

I honestly don't remember the exact wording. There were no stamps in the passport of "denied entry" phrases used (as I ascertained gingerly over the following words). It was more of a sit around and wait for an hour, some talk about us having "death paraphernalia" (I think because we looked sort of punk rock and my buddy had a rainbow flag with him), and then it was "yeah, we're not letting you cross. You'll have to go back."

At the time it felt like they were being assholes about it, but given how things have changed since then I don't think they were. I got the distinct impression that they thought we looked like scrubs and didn't want to let us into the country, and that was that.