Walking the Edge of Reality

[ Log In ]

Walking the Edge of Reality

A look behind the curtain to my world...

Obrigado
Tuesday, December 22, 2009 4:53 PM

I haven't posted here in a while, but in light of recent discussions on Twitter some things can't be expressed in 140 characters. So it's story time.

Let me tell you about the time I nearly got arrested by a Brazilian customs agent...

I predict it to be about 1991. I was working at a very large local freight forwarder who is now owned by a bigger company that uses initials for its name. I had the title of "Regional Support Representative", which in and of itself didn't mean much. Put simply: I was the one and only local technical contact in Miami. And, by default, the technical contact for all of South America. I was the "go to" IT person for an entire continent at the age of 20.

This was around the time that a major retail chain - one that has a rather sizeable headquarters in Arkansas - was expanding to South America. So I was tasked to go to both Brazil (Sao Paulo) and Argentina (Buenos Aires) to make the necessary technical arrangements to get our local field offices up to 20th century computing standards.

Before I continue, there's a side note: I worked for a freight forwarder. As such, forwarders have a tendency of taking advantage of relationships they may have with their cargo carriers. If the forwarder hands the carrier thousands of pounds of cargo on a yearly basis, the carrier returns the favor with a few perks. Among which is the opportunity for the forwarder's employees to use cargo planes for executive travel. And it is just like it sounds: when flying on a cargo plane, you *are* FREIGHT. You fly "ninth class". You are listed on the manifest as "cargo". On smaller aircraft, you get to sit in a jump seat, which may or may not be in the cockpit. For that matter, it may or may not have a seat belt. There is no stewardess, there is no bathroom, there is no food. You aren't even allowed to SPEAK below 10,000 feet. If you're lucky, you won't be on a Southbound "cattle flight."

Since you are freight and not human, you do not pass through the traditional customs process that the normal passenger does. Your passport is stamped at the cargo terminal (which, in MIA's case, is a blue building on the north side of the runway; literally 100 yards from the primary runway itself). So, since the customs process is much more lax, some people might decide to take advantage of that.

At the time we were going to Brazil, the field office had a representative visiting Miami; he was in the process of relocating his home in Broward to Sao Paulo. So, as a favor, he asked us to take with us a single box about four feet long that contained some personal items like electronics. The reason he preferred this method, in case you are not aware, is that things like electronics carry a massive customs tax (20% or more), so it wasn't cost effective to send it as actual cargo because it would have to be declared. As carryon luggage, you don't have to declare anything and as such you aren't taxed.

So we agreed.

Thankfully, for the trip to Sao Paulo - a non-stop flight which is a staggering 14 hours - we were lucky enough to fly on a 747 "cargo conversion". These planes, even though they are gutted for freight, still have the First Class "bubble" at the top of the plane, and there they have a couple of first class seats. So the flight was rather bearable, all things considered, and 14 hours later we're stepping off the plane in Sao Paulo, Brazil.

Now, needless to say, customs when entering a country is much more strict than leaving one. So my business associate and I show up to the customs desk (which was, literally, a folded table next to the runway) and ask for our passports to be stamped. He notices that we're lugging around a sealed box.

"What's in the box?"

"Personal items from a business associate in Miami."

"Open it."

Now, what did we have to lose at this point? We assumed the executive, a high ranking executive in the company, wouldn't do something as ludicrous as pack ten kilos in the thing. So we happily opened it.

Inside were numerous portable CD players, Walkmans, some video games and a harpoon gun.

Yes, you read that correctly... a harpoon gun.

There it was. A four foot long, LOADED harpoon gun.

My business associate and I stared blankly at each other, knowing what's coming next.

"What is that, sir?"

"That's... uh... looks like a harpoon gun."

"I mean those other boxes."

"The what? The CD players and cassette deck?"

"Yes."

I thought he was joking.

"You can't bring those in to the country like that."

I saw where this was going; I've seen it before in Mexico and Cuba. Grease the wheel and it doesn't squeak anymore.

Unfortunately, at this point, neither my business partner nor myself had any money to grease said wheel.

"I'm going to have to confiscate this equipment. You can take that," he said waving to the harpoon gun.

"OK then." It wasn't my problem; it's the executive's screw up. He'll take the loss. So I started to close up the box.

"You can't take the box."

"What?"

"The box stays here. Take that with you."

I couldn't believe what he was suggesting, so I had to repeat it.

"Let me get this straight... You are letting me leave, brandishing a loaded harpoon gun?"

"We can't take that here, and you are not authorized to simply discard it."

"You do understand that this is a WEAPON, right?" I honestly didn't want to take it. I was afraid I might get shot out of self-defense while trying to hail a cab.

"Take it and go or we may have to detain you further."

"Let's go," said my business partner. Sure, he's not the one that was carrying this thing.

So there I was, standing on the sidewalk at Sao Paulo International Airport, suitcase in one hand and four foot long harpoon gun in the other. Trying to hail a cab.

Actually, I've never gotten a cab easier in my life...

Some other day I'll tell you the story on how I was an illegal alien in Bogota.

Posted by David "Nighthawk" Flor on Tuesday, December 22, 2009 4:53 PM

1 comment [ View Comments ]

Posted by pancito on Tuesday, December 22, 2009 8:00 PM

LOL. I once smuggled coconuts across the border from Mexico. agents were so busy looking for drugs that they kept shoving the coconuts (also illegal as foodstuffs) around in the back of the car. Shoulda stuffed them with something, but no. At least I have coconuts.

Post a comment:

Name:
Email Address:
	(Email address is not public information)
Website URL:
	(Website is public information and will make your name a link)
Comment:
	(HTML is NOT supported in comments)

[ <- Previous ] [ Next -> ]

David "Nighthawk" Flor

View Complete Profile

My Image Gallery

2010
May
2009
December
November
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
January
2008
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April

Links:
Darklight Interactive
Brain Clouds
Facebook profile
DLIMedia @ Twitter
DLIMedia @ Facebook
Partners in Crime:
Icarus' Labyrinth
Iriarte Files
Christy Dena
Avant Game
Novel Patient
Adventures in Reality
Alternate Reality Existence
Resources:
unFiction
unfiction Forums
Despoiler
ARGNet
ARGology
IGDA ARG SIG
Online Comics:
Penny Arcade
Save Hiatus
Order Of the Stick
XKCD
Odd Fish
HijiNKS Ensue
Questionable Content
Punch an' Pie
Goblins
Shortpacked!
Garfield w/o Garfield
Basic Instructions