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. :lol:
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.
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. :cry:
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.
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.
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."
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.
Quote from: Admiral Yi on October 07, 2014, 07:08:37 PM
What exactly did the guy say when he turned you back Jacob?
Which time? The hitchhiking one or the friend-with-no-visa time?
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. :D
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.
Quote from: Jacob on October 07, 2014, 07:50:23 PM
Which time? The hitchhiking one or the friend-with-no-visa time?
Hitchhiking.
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".
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.
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". :P
"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. :)
Mono, what was it you didn't want your parents to see? :ph34r:
Quote from: Admiral Yi on October 07, 2014, 08:34:37 PM
Quote from: Jacob on October 07, 2014, 07:50:23 PM
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.
Quote from: Peter Wiggin on October 07, 2014, 08:56:25 PM
Mono, what was it you didn't want your parents to see? :ph34r:
Sex related products.
Quote from: Tonitrus on October 07, 2014, 08:46:37 PM
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". :P
"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. :)
You had military ID right? Seems bizarre they'd interrogate you over that.
Quote from: crazy canuck on October 07, 2014, 08:06:47 PM
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. :D
Nice to get someone to push your car for you! :)
Was it to save gas?
Quote from: Tonitrus on October 07, 2014, 08:46:37 PM
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". :P
"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. :)
That's interesting... they gave you the impression they were concerned about you spying in Canada?
I stood in line.
Nothing exciting. I've often brought back cigars (and even Rum) from a certain country back with me and had to sweat that out.
Most embarrassing was last time I flew back from Argentina, going through Customs in Miami. I took a late evening flight and got zero sleep on the plane. I was so flippin' tired by the time I went through customs that it took me three attempts to correctly answer the customs agent when he asked me where I lived.
Quote from: Jacob on October 07, 2014, 09:55:01 PM
That's interesting... they gave you the impression they were concerned about you spying in Canada?
No, just mostly very interested in where I had been stationed before.
Maybe they were bored?... it was probably a bumfuck part of BC across the border from bumfuck Idaho. :P
I was just happy they didn't want to search through all my luggage/cargo.
My stories are kind of week compared to some others, but here goes...
Crossing over to Alaska from Yukon, mid oughts. It was just me in my car. I was asked if I had a passport, and I said no, just a driver's license. The US border guard looked at me and said "Bad Canadian!" as if he was disciplining a dog, before explaining I should have a passport, and then letting me through.
Flying back from Brazil to Canada, landing in Miami. It was a long days flight with two little kids, and we get there facing a really, really long line-up. Our flight, though a US carrier, had been full of Brazillian nationals. We get to the head of the line and are asked by security "Are you US citizens?" We reply that no, we are Canadians. Apparently that was also the right answer, as we get waived by this huge ass line of Brazillians and into the US-only line, where we took about 5 minutes before passing customs. I can't help but feel that was somewhat racist, but it was in our favour so I wasn't going to argue.
Mind you even when not involving customs we found that travelling with toddlers is a great way to get waived through long lines, so who knows.
Finally, spring 1999. Me and three buddies had spent spring break touring a few American fraternity chapters. To this day I'm glad we weren't arrested, as we were driving around with a keg of beer in the back of our mid-80s Corolla (I was anal enough to insist that the driver not be drinking... much - which led to me doing most of the driving). On top of the keg the back seat of our car had a thick layer of beer can detritus throughout the trip, until we deposited that on an abandoned North Dakota rural road (sorry LaCroix).
Anyways, once we got back to Canadian customs, even though we had gotten rid of all our illegal goods, I was driving and I guess I was nervous. The border guard was just about to pass us through to a secondary check when one of my buddies, who had worked for CBSA as a summer student and in fact knew the agent who was interviewing us, intervened from the back seat and we were waved through.
I've never had problems with customs. They just don't give a shit in Korea, I've even volunteered that I have liquor over the amount allowed and they just wave you through anyways.
Used to be a lot more difficult to get through security before the full body scanners were introduced because of the screws and metal plates in my legs. I must be one of the only people who love those things.
Quote from: jimmy olsen on October 07, 2014, 10:49:54 PM
I've never had problems with customs. They just don't give a shit in Korea, I've even volunteered that I have liquor over the amount allowed and they just wave you through anyways.
This reminds me...
Going to Skagway for a daytrip from Whitehorse. Going through Canadian customs who ask if I have anything to declare. I say "yes, 12 beer" and point to them in clear sight in the back of my truck.
CBSA guard goes on to say how don't I know that that's illegal, and I say "no, as long as I pay duty on it".
For some reason he then asks what we do for a living. I of course say "Crown Prosecutor", and Mrs B says "corrections officer", and the CBSA officer, looking dejected, waves us through without insisting on paying duty.
Not to say all border guards are assholes. One year, also going to Skagway, this time for the 4th of July, as we cross into the US the border guard takes the time to tell us of all the activities going on, and gives us a map of the area. It was maybe my favourite time going to Skagway, which in summer is usually a huge tourist trap, but that day there were no cruise ships in town, and it was just a good old fashioned small town fourth of July. :)
I was once in Mainland China, going back to Hong Kong. At that time I fell in love with a kind of almond drink, which was only available on the mainland. So I bought a ton and put them all in the luggage. When it was x-rayed, the officer stopped us and he wanted to check the inside. We opened the luggage, and he exclaimed "Lulu [name of the drink]! Lulu! Nothing but Lulu!"
I thought the entire scene would make an excellent script for a TV advertisement for the drink.
I always get special attention when traveling alone.
When arriving in Moscow in the nineties, the woman at customs takes a long look at my passport, then pulls out a book full of mugshots and starts comparing the photos for a good 15 minutes, getting other customs officers involved and shouting at me in Russian. I wanted to turn back and go home so bad. In the end nothing happened and I could pass.
A fitting start to an interesting trip where I got harrassed by police almost daily, arrested once and shot at by some guy on a rooftop. :lol:
After reasonably good experiences on the Greyhound in NA, I made the mistake of trying a long-distance bus in Europe. Leaving Amsterdam for Italy, the bus would pas through Switzerland and the company went out of its way to warn passengers not to take any drugs with them. Huge banners, leaflets in every possible language, the driver almost pleading on the intercom to leave all drugs behind because the Swiss will look for it. Sure enough, we get stopped on the Swiss border in the middle of the night, everyone gets out and the sniffer dogs move about. I'm close to the driver who tells me the customs officers won't stop until they find something, and they always find something eventually. After an hour of not much happening, me and the other single travelling males are lined up to go into a small office one by one, we know what's coming. Fortunately the Brazilian guy two places ahead of me was stupid enough to put some drugs in his clothes, and the Swiss are satisfied. We can continue, and when we pull out of the parking area the Brazilian guy comes running after the bus, he left his bags on board. The driver is so pissed off by now he doesn't stop. :D
Not as bad as some of the other stuff here, but tense for me: my Mom and I were flying into the US of A through Atlanta to visit my sister's family in NC in early 2002, a few months after 9/11. My Mom had two suitcases. One for clothes. One filled to the brim with German food - mustard and sauces, ready mixes, some fruit stuff, loads of sausages/bacon, obviously.
I told her that if anyone opens the suitcase I would claim to not know her and that I'd never seen her before.
Unexcitingly, we got through customs without a hitch. Even the immigrations officer was pretty laid back.
He, big black guy from Georgia, looking at our papers. "Mother - son?"
Me, "That's correct. I mean, she's a bit old to be my wife, no?"
He looks me in the eyes, grinning. "Son, I see a lot of strange things here!"
I flew from Borneo to Singapore and when I picked up by bag at baggage claim in Singapore I noticed the lock was missing.
So I went to the Singapore airport police, told them my bag had been opened and asked them to scan and search it for drugs. Drug smuggling carries the death penalty in Singapore so I wanted to be sure.
They didn't find anything, but that was a tense moment for me.
Another time German customs found that I had smuggled too many clothes and stuff from the US to Germany, but they let me leave without paying customs or a fine. I mainly pretended not to ever have heard about customs limits and apparently they were in a good mood, so they let me off the hook.
How does it work with the clothes, anyways? Unless you leave the store labels on, how do they know you've bought them new?
Icelandic customs at Seyðusfjörður (where the ferry from denmark docks), our car got taken aside for a check, the dog marked something, I got threatened with a body cavity scan and my friend had a catatonic episode.
Bizzarely enough as soon as my friend had his fit all the large "scary" customs officers disappeared, only the skinny girl remained and the local doctor had to drive over the mountain. After this I will never fear customs officers again.
It was 1991 and we had just celebrated our first Christmas in Israel - my dad was working for the British Council and we had just moved there.
My brothers and sister had just started university or were finishing off at boarding school in the UK, and this being the early nineties everyone in Britain was a little bit poor.
So being the relatively well off expatriates we were, my mother decided to put lots of goodies into their luggage for back in Britain. After dropping them off at Ben Gurion airport, we say our goodbyes and await the phone calls to let us know they've all landed safely. (You will remember that in the 90s the risk of planes blowing up in mid air was not theoretical.)
Three very angry phone calls from UK payphones followed.
It turns out that along with things like bread and biscuits, my mother had decided that something they really shouldn't be paying for if she could help it was laundry detergent. However, in the spirit of equity, she couldn't just give one of them the whole box of washing powder. No - her wisdom of Saul compelled her to divided the pure, white powder equally. And what better to put it in than transparent plastic ziplock bags?
EDIT: I forgot to add, my mother had of course packed these items without telling them. So when asked the question, "What is this?", they each replied with the worst possible response, "I've never seen that before!"
You can imagine that Israel security was less than amused...
There were a few years in the late 80s when you could go over the border to Austria, but with severely limited cash allowances, and big restrictions on what you can bring back through customs (and for how much tariff).
But of course you could only get decent stuff there, so EVERYONE was smuggling. When I was taken with my parents IIRC I had one pair of shoes bought there which I just put on in Austria, with my old shoes landing in some ditch next to the road, and another pair of shoes (IIRC) going under the back seat.
Fun times.
BTW the whole border crossing thing was such a big deal back then, I still get a weird feeling when crossing a (now empty) border.
And lets not forget friendly east European relations pre-Schengen. The Slovakian border with a bus of tourists? A bottle or two of booze prepared just in case, and the friendly border guards were "trigger happy" to delay you or investigate your bus on the slightest excuse. Having a Hungarian license plates comes with perks like that in that part of the world.
In the 80s, a popular way to spend a day were the "Butterfahrten". For 1 German Mark (or 2?), you could take a bus to a local harbor, where a small boat would take you outside of the customs border, so that you could do duty free shopping - spirits, cigarettes, chocolates etc. Think the basics of duty free at an airport. Also, lots of drinks to and cheap greasy food to pass the time.
The bus would pick people up in Denmark, and on the way back you would have to pass German/Danish customs. Allowed amounts of cigarettes, booze and so on were very limited back in the day (and on board there was advise on what the legal amounts were). People would swap ("I carry your booze if you carry my smokes.") to even things out, but even then some stuff needed to be hidden in umbrellas etc.
The customs guys knew, of course, what was going on, and they normally turned a blind eye, contenting themselves to teasing/scaring folks. It was rare that they actually singled someone out (usually if someone misbehaved or was too rowdy a drunk).
Just remembered another one.
Visiting the US with a friend and going through the metal detector at the White House (pre 9/11). We were 18 and traveling on the cheap, bought some bread and some strawberry jam to have lunch in a park and put the remains back in my friend's bag. The metal detector goes off, security guy asks my friend if he's got a knife in there. Friend looks puzzled, then realizes it's pretty stupid to bring a knife and while laughing goes 'oh yeah, sure' and pulls out a fairly large knife in a plastic bag covered in what looks like blood. All security guards take a step back, hands on holster. Really tense moment until my friend gets it and starts screaming IT'S JAM, IT'S JAM.
Quote from: Tamas on October 08, 2014, 04:23:59 AM
I had one pair of shoes
Some things don't change :P
Quote from: Brazen on October 08, 2014, 05:22:47 AM
Quote from: Tamas on October 08, 2014, 04:23:59 AM
I had one pair of shoes
Some things don't change :P
:lol: If you read the story we bought two pairs just that day :P
1. Just wed a couple of days before, my new husband and I were separated at Kingston, Jamaica airport where I had to take off one shoe and was thoroughly patted down by a female security guard, and the coffee we bought for presents was opened.
2. I got taken aside by immigration in Chicago, held for about an hour and questioned about why the hell I wanted to go to Kansas, nearly missing my connecting flight.
3. A weapons guidance system aboard a Danish Navy vessel (Absalon-class frigate) failed to work in demonstration so the Captain circled round three times to try again, making us very late taking the RIB back onshore. Our minibus driver hurtled back to the airport down twisty country roads in sleet at breakneck speeds to get us three 10 minutes before the flight departed, and we literally sprinted all the way through check-in and customs. I just didn't wait to help the journos who couldn't get their self check-in to work, sorry!
Man, nothing even remotely weird or hard ever happened to me crossing borders.
The worse was when coming back from a NYC weekend trip, the Airport agents didn't believe someone could go to NYC and not buy anything.
Quote from: Brazen on October 08, 2014, 05:33:28 AM
2. I got taken aside by immigration in Chicago, held for about an hour and questioned about why the hell I wanted to go to Kansas, nearly missing my connecting flight.
To be honest, wanting to go to Kansas
does raise suspicions. :hmm:
Quote from: Syt on October 08, 2014, 04:18:45 AM
How does it work with the clothes, anyways? Unless you leave the store labels on, how do they know you've bought them new?
The burden of proof where you bought something is with you, not with the customs agency. They can just assume that everything you bring into Germany was bought abroad unless you can show them that isn't case and you or someone else already paid duty for it. They furthermore can just estimate prices if you don't have any price documentation. And they'll estimate a German price, not a foreign price...
That's why it makes sense to keep the price tags on stuff you buy abroad. Just buy less than the 430 Euro customs limit (these days, back then it was 175 Euro). If you buy more, just keep the tags on stuff that is worth about 430 Euro. :P
Quote from: Syt on October 08, 2014, 04:18:45 AM
How does it work with the clothes, anyways? Unless you leave the store labels on, how do they know you've bought them new?
I assume after they ask about length of stay, it raises a red flag if you've got an excessive amount of clothing for the time you would have been travelling.
Quote from: DontSayBanana on October 08, 2014, 08:58:16 AM
Quote from: Syt on October 08, 2014, 04:18:45 AM
How does it work with the clothes, anyways? Unless you leave the store labels on, how do they know you've bought them new?
I assume after they ask about length of stay, it raises a red flag if you've got an excessive amount of clothing for the time you would have been travelling.
Bit rude. Every good traveler has enough clothes for a few costume changes a day.
Quote from: Syt on October 08, 2014, 04:33:18 AM
"Butterfahrten"
Sounds like something Ed gets after breakfast.
Quote from: Jacob on October 07, 2014, 09:54:26 PM
Was it to save gas?
Yep, gas prices were crazy high as I recall. Everyone did it so it wasnt that my driver was crazy. He just had an easier time getting up that hill than most.
I may have said this story once before. But I'll say it again. This is a bit off topic, but will touch upon Customs. Bear with me.
The last time I went to Israel was in 08, I think? It was March. the day of a major snowstorm. I managed to get to the airport on time, but hardly anyone else was there yet. Anyone who has travelled El Al knows that you do get screened before you even check in to the counter. You get asked standard questions. Why the fuck you wanna go to Israel? Who bought your ticket, etc.
I was travelling for work. I was a guest of the Jewish Agency, based in New York. I was flying out of Toronto. When I told them I didn't buy my ticket, the guy got all excited. "Who did?" "I don't know, someone in New York." "Who?"
They asked me who was meeting me. I shrugged my shoulders. "Just going to a hotel in Jersualem. Meeting up with other journalists flying out of New York."
They pulled me aside. This line of questioning went on for a while. "Do you have no contacts in Israel? Anyone we could call to verify your story?" Finally I found an itinerary which had some guy's name who worked for the J.A. in Jerusalem. They called him up. It was 3 am Israel time. They approved me. And I went to the passenger lounge to wait boarding.
Flight was delayed an hour or so. Prior to boarding they did a routine selection and sure enough they chose me. They pulled me aside. Went through hand luggage. Frisked me with a swifter. I was last to board.
El Al airplane taxied down the runway. After 30 minutes it stopped. "Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking. Due to the slippery conditions we are going to have to wait. Please stay in your seats."
It took six. Six hours of sitting on the runway. I should point out this was a Thursday p.m flight. This is important for what is to follow.
By the time we took off it was early morning Friday Toronto time. By the time we crossed the Atlantic we got another message from El Capitan. "Ladies and gentlemen unfortunately as you know El Al cannot fly on Shabbos. By the time we get to Tel Aviv it will be Shabbos. We can't land in Israel."
We landed in Geneva instead. Switzerland. Or was it Bern? I don't remember.
We waited three hours.Finally they boarded us (except for religiious passengers who had to spend Shabbos in Switzerland), they boarded the rest of us on a Charter Airline, owned and operated by El Al but doesn't actually say El Al anywhere on it, thus making it kosher. We landed in Israel, finally very late on Friday night.
No one, of course, was there to greet me. I took a taxi to my hotel in Jerusalem.
Next morning I met my group at breakfast. Guy came up to me. "YOu Josephus from Canada? The guy they woke me up for at 3 am?"
He laughed.
Spent five days in Israel. A fair bit of it at a military base on the Lebanese border.
Finally went back to airport to fly home.
Lining up to check in. I am nervous now. I am normally a nervous person. But now I was super nervous. Security guy spotted me like a chick in a bikini. He walks up to me. "Passport?" I give it to him. "Where you flying to?" "Toronto". "Who bought your tickets. ""
fuck, not this again, I think. I tell him.
"Why are you so nervous?"
"I always am nervous," I say.
"Is it a medical condition?"
"NOt really."
"Do you have a doctor's note?"
Are you shitting me? "NO."
He places a sticker on the back of my passport. It was blue. Everyone else's was pink. I was really nervous now.
Go to check in my bag. Girl looks at passport. Sees the sticker. "You go over there."
fuck.
I go over there. Another girl. A cute one, probably a reservist. She opens my luggage and goes through it.I hoped she didn't notice my dirty underwear. When she's done I start, with shaking hands, to put everything back. From previous expereince with opened luggage in Toronto, the customs people make you pack everything back. This girl was different. "You want to do it or shall I?" she asks. I shrug. She smiles. We both do it.
I check my bag. I'm thinking all is over.
Go to security check in now. Guy looks at sticker on my passport. "You over there."
Oh for fuck sakes.
I go over there.
guy takes my passport. He puts through the swifter that checks for drugs/explosives residue. I'm a bit worried because I spent two days at a military base, where there's a fair bit of gunpowder residue. He starts aksing me questions. "Where you coming from? Where did I visit?" I decide to skip the miltiary base. I hope he doesn't go through my camera. "did I ever go to Jordan? Egypt? Syria?" blah blah. No. No. "Take off your belt."
He puts that through the swifter machine.
he then closes a drape. Take off your shoes, socks, shirt and pants.
I'm now just about naked. He goes through them, my clothes, very carefully.
Then another guy comes. A suited older fellow. Probably a head security guy. they start talking in Hebrew.
"Where is your passport?" He asks me.
My heart sinks. As I stood almost naked in front of him, I realize I had no idea where my passport was. I point to the other fellow with a shaking hand. "He has it."
the new guy grabs my passport and looks through it. "Why are you so nervous?" he asks.
Are you fucking for real? "You make me nervous," I say. "Plus it's been a long day. I'm tired." I now sound annoyed.
He gives me my passport. "Have a good flight."
Once in the main terminal I relax a bit, though I can't shake the feeling that every security camera is looking at me. There's a kosher mc donalds. I was hungry. Trying to lighten my mood I ask the guy at the counter. "How do you say Big Mac in Hebrew?"
the guy laughs. "Beeg Muck"
Oh man, that sounds hellish - aside from the incident with the pastels that was briefly allarming (yelling in Hebrew, being pulled out of the line) but ended in laughs when the "bullets" proved to be pastels ... I always got lucky going through Israeli customs. Both times going in, they picked *the guy in front of me* for the full 'treatment', while just waving me in. :D
I am horrified to learn there is a kosher McDs
There's even McDonalds in India. :o
Quote from: crazy canuck on October 08, 2014, 05:07:23 PM
I am horrified to learn there is a kosher McDs
There are McDonalds
everywhere...
And they're surprisingly good about regionalizing their menu.
This McDonalds at Ben-Gurion Airport was really kosher, not just "A" McDonalds.
Me, my two younger cousins, and our respective parents, went to travel around Portugal (the things we did back then for relaxation...).
We were in line to go through customs, with our parents in the line just ahead of us, and us at the end of our line. My younger female cousin was between me and her brother.
I found out this would not be a normal trip through customs when, after caressing my leg for a bit, she put her hands inside both my trousers and her brother's, and proceeded to give us both handjobs. I'll never know how our parents never realized. Can't believe they did not glance back. I know I did my best to hold my voice to a normal tone.
Later she was very adamant we stop 'to use the restroom' at baggage claim, and in that interval my cousins... invited me for a bit of fun, so to say. It was also at the time that they told me what they had been doing for some years.
It was just that one time for me, and in retrospect I should had been more careful.
:blink:
Your cousin jacked you and her brother off in the line for Portuguese customs??
:lmfao:
Quote from: Admiral Yi on October 08, 2014, 06:09:16 PM
:blink:
Your cousin jacked you and her brother off in the line for Portuguese customs??
You should read Martim's post in the off topic thread.
EDIT: in the incest thread.
Asoka.
My brother worked for customs as an Agricultural Inspector at the land border crossings in Detroit. He said the most unusual thing they found was a missile. It was a Korean War era relic and headed to a museum; but the academics bringing it over had no documentation whatsoever. It never occurred to them that there would be any difficulty crossing an international border with a missile.
Quote from: Savonarola on October 09, 2014, 02:28:10 PM
My brother worked for customs as an Agricultural Inspector at the land border crossings in Detroit. He said the most unusual thing they found was a missile. It was a Korean War era relic and headed to a museum; but the academics bringing it over had no documentation whatsoever. It never occurred to them that there would be any difficulty crossing an international border with a missile.
Which direction was it heading?
Quote from: Savonarola on October 09, 2014, 02:28:10 PM
My brother worked for customs as an Agricultural Inspector at the land border crossings in Detroit. He said the most unusual thing they found was a missile. It was a Korean War era relic and headed to a museum; but the academics bringing it over had no documentation whatsoever. It never occurred to them that there would be any difficulty crossing an international border with a missile.
:hmm: If I was going to try to recruit North Korean sympathizers to form an underground army, academics would be one of the two groups I would begin with (the other of course being south carolina document reviewers).
Quote from: Malthus on October 09, 2014, 02:39:06 PM
Quote from: Savonarola on October 09, 2014, 02:28:10 PM
My brother worked for customs as an Agricultural Inspector at the land border crossings in Detroit. He said the most unusual thing they found was a missile. It was a Korean War era relic and headed to a museum; but the academics bringing it over had no documentation whatsoever. It never occurred to them that there would be any difficulty crossing an international border with a missile.
Which direction was it heading?
Into the United States.
Quote from: Savonarola on October 09, 2014, 02:46:54 PM
Quote from: Malthus on October 09, 2014, 02:39:06 PM
Quote from: Savonarola on October 09, 2014, 02:28:10 PM
My brother worked for customs as an Agricultural Inspector at the land border crossings in Detroit. He said the most unusual thing they found was a missile. It was a Korean War era relic and headed to a museum; but the academics bringing it over had no documentation whatsoever. It never occurred to them that there would be any difficulty crossing an international border with a missile.
Which direction was it heading?
Into the United States.
I guess they just figured a man's got a constitutional right to pack a missile down there. ;) No well-regulated militia is complete without one!
Quote from: Malthus on October 09, 2014, 02:49:08 PM
I guess they just figured a man's got a constitutional right to pack a missile down there. ;) No well-regulated militia is complete without one!
Plus they were heading into Detroit; there's parts of the city where packing a missile is just common sense.
Quote from: Savonarola on October 09, 2014, 02:54:52 PM
Quote from: Malthus on October 09, 2014, 02:49:08 PM
I guess they just figured a man's got a constitutional right to pack a missile down there. ;) No well-regulated militia is complete without one!
Plus they were heading into Detroit; there's parts of the city where packing a missile is just common sense.
Has the additional social benefit that if you are forced to use it and blow up some houses, you will end up increasing local property values.
My worst customs related incident was working as a customs inspector for the military of personnel and equipment headed back to the US from the middle east.
The organic matter found in blown up military vehicles is not the type of things you want to find. :(
Quote from: Malthus on October 09, 2014, 02:58:32 PM
Quote from: Savonarola on October 09, 2014, 02:54:52 PM
Quote from: Malthus on October 09, 2014, 02:49:08 PM
I guess they just figured a man's got a constitutional right to pack a missile down there. ;) No well-regulated militia is complete without one!
Plus they were heading into Detroit; there's parts of the city where packing a missile is just common sense.
Has the additional social benefit that if you are forced to use it and blow up some houses, you will end up increasing local property values.
You would think they would give tax breaks to people who bring them in
Quote from: lustindarkness on October 09, 2014, 03:07:59 PM
My worst customs related incident was working as a customs inspector for the military of personnel and equipment headed back to the US from the middle east.
The organic matter found in blown up military vehicles is not the type of things you want to find. :(
Not nice on several levels. :(
Working at the import department I'm almost in daily contact with customs.
I remember the time that I was working at the desk of a handling agent and artists came with a customs officer to clear their own instruments. They were busy and at a certain moment the customs officer just left without notice because his shift ended. They had to bring in another.
Most fun I had recently was when we had a temporary import with lab material for a training session for a client of us. Unfortunately on the invoice there was an error and the wrong type of apparel was mentioned because of this customs needed to have a new list. Luckily the training giver a French Canadian came over to our depot and we checked piece by piece, at the end in succeeding to get the goods released.
Quote from: Archy on October 10, 2014, 05:53:21 AM
Most fun I had recently was when we had a temporary import with lab material for a training session for a client of us. Unfortunately on the invoice there was an error and the wrong type of apparel was mentioned because of this customs needed to have a new list. Luckily the training giver a French Canadian came over to our depot and we checked piece by piece, at the end in succeeding to get the goods released.
Some of the brokers out there aren't the best; and often truckers get stranded for days at the border because their manifest is all messed up. My brother once came across one that listed the country of origin as "Democratic Peoples Republic of Korea;" that led to a few phone calls. It turns out that the broker didn't realize that the DPRK and ROK were different countries and had just put in the first one listed for Korea.
I've never personally had much trouble.
I do remember when I flew to Japan on KLM (i.e. via Amsterdam) one time though, the security was a lot tighter than I've ever seen before, sniffer dogs galore.
Oh those crazy Japanese and their attitude to weed.
Quote from: Tyr on October 11, 2014, 03:28:23 AM
I've never personally had much trouble.
I do remember when I flew to Japan on KLM (i.e. via Amsterdam) one time though, the security was a lot tighter than I've ever seen before, sniffer dogs galore.
Oh those crazy Japanese and their attitude to weed.
When I flew in/around/out of Japan back in 2010, I thought their airport security seemed almost invisible/nonexistent compared to our paranoid security state.
Interesting. It always seemed quite tight to me, that time though was another level.
I dont have much experience outside the eu to compare to though
Quote from: Tonitrus on October 11, 2014, 03:44:23 AM
When I flew in/around/out of Japan back in 2010, I thought their airport security seemed almost invisible/nonexistent compared to our paranoid security state.
Yeah, me too, except for this very old guy asking me if I would like him to sweep me with what he called a bomb residue detector. I told him no, I wouldn't like that. He smiled, part friendly - part slyly, and asked if I was sure. I wasn't.
Quote from: Liep on October 12, 2014, 04:02:39 AM
Yeah, me too, except for this very old guy asking me if I would like him to sweep me with what he called a bomb residue detector. I told him no, I wouldn't like that. He smiled, part friendly - part slyly, and asked if I was sure. I wasn't.
That's only because he didn't work for airport security. Man, is your gaydar off.