Customary?

Ever heard of the Australian Inquisition? Neither had I. Until this morning. Boy did I get stopped at customs and searched. For over an hour. I'd asked the quarantine people (idiot!) about a stupid bag of pistachio nuts the bartender gave me last night. For free--ain't nothing in life for free. And they snagged my immigration card and mucked it all up. Awesome. Guess I'm the lucky one from this flight to get inspected. Me and my mouth.

Customs unpacked every single thing, from my purse, from my luggage. And then twenty minutes later, I got swabbed. Well, my stuff did, not so much me. And upon return, I was pleased to learn that my bag tested positive for narcotics. Oh really?!? Who knew my folks had using my bag to smuggle narcotics in and out of Singapore? Where the punishment for drug smuggling is, yes, execution.

Second swab of a different area of my bag, the bag itself carted off to be x-rayed, then came the rapid-fire. "Who are you staying with in Sydney? What are you planning to do in Sydney? Why'd you book your visa only three days prior? Where have you been traveling? Alone or with friends? What do your parents do in Singapore? Have you taken drugs since traveling? Anything recreational? Do you have any drugs on you?" My responses harried. "I have two Advil Liqui-gels in my bag..." Nerd. "Do you have any friends in Sydney? How did you meet them? Where did you go to university? What do you do for a living? How do you make your money? How much money do you make a week?" This cannot be happening. And on no sleep on the overnight flight, and two cups of coffee. Can you say edgy?

My turn, "So what if the second swab comes up positive?" My customs agent replies, "Then, we'll have to do a third and final swab." And me, "What if that comes back positive?" Her: "We'll deal with that when it happens." Great.

Back to her. "Do you have anything in your pockets?" My answer, "Just my baggage claim check." "Do you have anything strapped to you under your clothes?" And the best of the best, "No. I am not a smuggler. I am no mule!" Yes, I said that.

Blood pressure through the roof, you hear stories about people slipping things into your bags but it's in Bolivia or Kazhakstan or somewhere really far away from me right now and far more developing a country than Singapore or Australia, right?? Is this really happening?

"So, miss, the second swab came back negative." "WHAT?!?" "No, no...I said negative! You've been very cooperative with all your answers. Thank you for that. You're free to go." Shaking. I was shaking. So, my customs agent's name was Cat as it turned out. And she intimated, "You've nothing to worry about if you're innocent." HA! Right. I've traveled a fair amount of the world and never had that kind of treatment, innocent all the while. She then started helping me repack my bag. "Woah woah woah!" I pretty much shouted. "Please, please, step away from my bag. Don't touch my stuff, no offense. I've got it." After that kind of scare, I'd rather deal with my stuff with mine own hands.

As I entered the bathroom to gather myself, on the verge of tears, I turned to my right, and on the wall was a syringe disposal. The irony. Welcome to Sydney.