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She’s Not The Sharpest Item In The Luggage

, , , , , | Right | March 26, 2021


I work as a security guard, screening passengers at the airport.

A lady is pulled over for a bag check because a knife is seen on the X-ray of her carry-on luggage. The knife in question turns out to be a pâté knife. For those readers who are unaccustomed to fine food, there are two kinds of pâté knife: a blunt one and one with a sharpened edge for slicing cold meats.

I pull the knife out of her bag, and guess which type it is?

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, but this is sharp so you can’t take it.”

Passenger: “It’s not sharp!”

Me: “No, it’s definitely sharp, so you can’t take it, sorry.”

At this point, like lightning, the lady reaches over the counter and snatches the knife.

Passenger: “IT’S! NOT! SHAAARP!”

She punctuated each screamed word by slashing at her wrist with the knife. On the third stroke, she sliced her wrist deeply.

The knife was confiscated.

I’m certain that she’ll have a nice scar to remind her to behave better in future, especially since she refused any treatment, opting instead for a wad of paper towel which quickly got soaked.

Star-Crossed Rock-Lovers

, , , , | Working | March 26, 2021

It’s my first time flying internationally — just from the USA to Canada, and the previous times I’d been to Canada were by car before passports were required — so it’s also my first time through customs. I either miss the announcement and signs concerning declaration forms or there just aren’t any, and I am the only person not in the know, as when we get off the plane in Quebec, I am the only one who doesn’t have a form filled out.

Cue me hastily filling out paperwork on a back table while all the other passengers finish their interviews and carry on with their travels. Finally done, I look up and see that I am now alone with a single customs agent waiting on me. I approach her and hand over my forms. The agent reviews them.

Canadian Agent: “What’s the reason for your visit?”

Me: “I’m visiting a friend.”

Canadian Agent: “And how did you meet?”

Me: “Online.”

I notice the agent’s eyes narrowing suspiciously at this.

Canadian Agent: “What is their name, and how long have you known each other?”

Me: “[Friend’s Full Name], and we’ve known each other for ten years.”

Canadian Agent: “Is this your first time meeting in person?”

Me: “Yes, but we voice and video chat frequently as well as send each other mail occasionally.”

Canadian Agent: “Where does your friend live?”

Me: “[Small Town] on the coast.”

Canadian Agent: “And you’re just friends?”

Her tone has changed to downright accusatory and I’m a bit taken aback.

Me: “Yes. She’s one of my best and oldest friends. We’ve just never had a chance to meet in person before due to the distance.”

I am asked a few more probing questions into the nature of my relationship with my friend, each getting more direct and suggestive about what I intend to do with my “friend,” as if the concept of traveling internationally to meet someone who you have a platonic relationship with is completely impossible.

I finally manage to escape that uncomfortable line of questioning and enjoy a lovely time with my friend and her family! Then comes my return trip and second time through customs.

The American agent glances over my forms and passport.

American Agent: “Welcome back.”

They go through a spiel about taxable goods, high-value purchases, and forbidden items, asking if I have anything to declare.

Me: “Nope, none of that.”

The agent indicates toward my large suitcase.

American Agent: “What’s in there?”

Me: “Mostly rocks. Turns out the area I went to has lots of raw jasper!”

American Agent: “Really?! That’s awesome!”

And with that, I was sent on my way. I’m sure it was mostly just the difference between leaving and returning to the country, but the fifth degree the Canadian agent gave me about my friend still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Totally Estúpido! Part 18

, , , , | Right | March 25, 2021

Gibraltar is a British territory at the southern tip of Europe; the airport is literally a few yards from the border with Spain.

I’m waiting at Gibraltar Airport for a flight back to the UK, and we’re told that a storm has knocked the radar out and we need to cross into Spain where buses are waiting to take us to Malaga Airport.

We’re fast-tracked through the border post and board the buses. We’re ready to go when there’s an altercation at the front of our bus. An elderly English guy is getting irate with the Spanish driver about stowing his bag.

Passenger: “I don’t understand what you’re saying! Speak English!

Driver: *In Spanish* “I don’t speak English. I only speak Spanish.”

Passenger: “Well, we’re not in Spain. You should be able to speak English.”

Rest Of The Bus As A Chorus: “YES, WE ARE!”

The passenger shuffled onto the bus. The last remaining seat was right at the back, so he had to run the gauntlet of all the other passengers glaring and muttering for holding the bus up.

Totally Estúpido! Part 17
Totally Estúpido! Part 16
Totally Estúpido! Part 15
Totally Estúpido! Part 14
Totally Estupido, Part 13

A Spoonful Of Sugar Helps The Medicine Get Tested

, , , , | Right | March 12, 2021

For a while, I have to travel with a dietary supplement that my doctor suggested, but the packaging is enormous, so I’ve moved some into a smaller container. I travel a lot, and at each airport, my bag gets pulled for the strange container of orange powder that I’m carrying. This is fine with me; I travel a lot, understand security procedures, and always leave myself enough time to get through security.

One day, after travelling through several airports in just a few days, I see a friendly-looking TSA agent pull my bag and beat him to it.

TSA Agent: “Is this your bag?”

Me: “Yep, it’s mine; you can go ahead and open it.”

TSA Agent: *Slightly surprised smile*

I start following the script of questions I know are coming.

Me: “There’s nothing sharp, dangerous, or breakable in there, so you can open it. You’re probably looking for a container of funny-looking powder. It’s a dietary supplement my doctor recommended, and you have permission to test it.”

His surprised smile has grown as I’ve been talking, making me grin, too.

Me: “I travel a lot, so I’m pretty good at this!”

TSA Agent: “I noticed! I finished testing it; it’s all good. Have a good day!”

Me: “You, too! Thanks!”

This interaction made my day! When you’re calm, kind, and patient, you can get people in even high-stress jobs to laugh with you a bit. Be nice!

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for March 2021!

Read the next Feel Good roundup for March 2021 story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for March 2021!

A Well-Bread Agent

, , , , , , | Working | February 23, 2021

I am flying out to visit my parents several states away. My husband can’t come with me but sends a gift: a loaf of his homemade holiday bread. Since I don’t want to pack the bread in my luggage in case of loss — or crumbs — I tuck it into my carry-on bag. The security line is super-busy, and I get waved aside.

TSA Agent: “Ma’am, we’ll need to look through your bag.”

Me: “I understand.”

The agent opens the bag and lifts out the loaf, which is wrapped in foil and still faintly warm. He looks profoundly confused.

Me: “Oh, that’s holiday bread. My husband baked it.”

TSA Agent: *Taking a slow sniff* “It’s… bread.”

Me: “Yep. It’s got raisins and dried cherries in it.”

TSA Agent: *Smiling* “I’m terribly afraid I have to confiscate this.”

Me: “Confiscate some warm melted butter to put on top of it, too!”

He waved me through with a smile, and the bread got safely to my parents, who enjoyed it.