| Failing Passport Control
No matter how innocent and
good I am. No matter how many times I travel outside the country; when
I go through customs or a passport control, I feel like I’m a fugitive
on the run.
Yes, I have accepted the
fact I’m one faux pas or mispronunciation of the word “declaration”
away from a border patrol officer sending me to a Turkish prison to star
in the squeal..oops-transpose that-I mean sequel to “Midnight Express”.
CUSTOMS: - Business
or Pleasure? “Well I did take a photograph of a nude statue, but I don’t
plan on selling it…so does where does that get filed and would you like
to see it?”
CUSTOMS: - How long
have you been in this country? “Um..in hours? Are you kidding me? I think
I arrived Thursday, but with the time difference, it could have been Wednesday.
Do I get sent somewhere special for being able to tell time?”
CUSTOMS: Son, I DON”T
ever JOKE. Do you think I’m smiling under these mirrored sunglasses?
“No, But the ’86 TOP GUN crew called, they want them back before sunset.”
I’m sure my impersonation
of the southern prison warden in "COOL HAND LUKE", “What we have hear
is a failurrrrre to communicate” didn’t help my situation much with
his “scent” of humor.
I do freak out over the smallest
things. I’m even thinking to myself (What is the penalty for omitting
the fact I have two souvenir spoons and refrigerator magnets stuffed in
my suitcase). That is how paranoid I am. Thankfully I forgot I had a box
of chocolates in my computer bag or I would have been a wreck.
As they stare at my passport,
there is a big sign above their heads stating in big letters,
(If you are chosen to be
searched,
we will provide both an officer
and witness observer)
OOOOH. LOVELY, I have BOTH
a pervert and a voyeur asking me if I’m a packing mule or just happy
to see them. I am never leaving home again. MOMMY!!
Honestly. I must not be meant
to deal with the law at any level. Last night I was pulled over from a
local police officer who asked me if I have been drinking.
“Officer, I have not drank
anything other than the 2 liter bottle of Gatorade I had after working
out, but I’ve been swerving on the road afraid I’m going to have different
kind of accident trying to control my bladder AND simultaneously watch
you in my rear view mirror as you TAILGATE my butt for the past 20 minutes
JUST waiting for me to swerve.
I wonder how Wyoming is in
the summer. I hear the border patrol there takes makes you check your belt
buckle to verify your name before letting you mosey along.
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About the author: Erik
Hawkinson |
