Reading Hepzis post about always getting her bags searched prompted me to think of my own experiences and I cannot remember a single instance where my own bags were searched at customs anywhere I have travelled in the world. The same thing with security searches, now my brother is often chosen for a bit of extra scrutiny even though he travels far less than I do, my son in law is picked on at virtually every flight he takes. My only incidents were once when leaving Zambia I was stopped by a plain clothes guy who asked for my wallet then started to ask lots of questions about how much money I was carrying, he warned me it was a criminal offence etc. to take above a certain amount of cash out of the country, then still clutching my unopened wallet he asked the question again. I gave him the same answers as before and he handed me my wallet back and told be to proceed to the transit lounge as I was free to go. I was very glad he didn’t take the 4 AA batteries out of my cine camera (yes it was that long ago) as they were actually little wads of tightly rolled up £10 notes.
On another occasion I had landed at Blantyre airport in Malawi (which was not much more than a shed) en route to Johannesburg. We had to leave the plane for refuelling and wait in the lounge, (AKA shed) when we were summoned back onto the plane again we had to pass through a side door onto the tarmac. Again I was stopped by a raggedy man in a torn shirt and flip flops who showed some official identification and questioned me as to where I was going, to which I replied “Johannesburg”. “Aha! I thought so” was his reply, but in a tone that implied he had uncovered some dreadful secret plot and he was some sort of super sleuth. I pointed out that the plane itself was going to Johannesburg so it was hardly a mystery as to where I was going and that I was not in his country by choice, but only on a refuelling stop over.
This didn’t seem to bother him and he demanded to see my passport, this turned into a Mexican stand off with me showing it to his face, but refusing to hand it over to him. I finally decided to brass it out and in a very loud voice informed him that I was an international traveller and he could not harass me as I was in neutral territory.

As he looked puzzled, I took the opportunity to push past him and the armed guards and walk to the plane, it was one of the longest walks ever with the hair standing up on my neck.

So I can only conclude that although I don’t look like the usual contraband smuggler and sail through customs, I must instead have the look of an international currency smuggler.
