And so it began: 2 weeks, 7 countries, 8 airports, 7 planes, 1 missed connection, 65 hours of travel. Number of times I lied on the Customs sheet = 2.
I arrived at the Phnom Penh airport an hour and 45 minutes early, as one should for an international flight. This was clearly a mistake since the place was deserted except for two other dumb barangs. Although Phnom Penh is technically an international airport, it's not exactly a bustling hub of activity. There were 24 airline booths, all closed. It was like flying out of Arizona through the Mesa airport. This gave me some time to stuff a pastry down my throat and stare at the glowing neon sign on the wall which displayed pictures of prohibited items. It featured the expected guns, lighters, and shampoo bottles, but what stuck out was the picture of a battery powered mosquito zapper. Really? How often do people actually try to bring these on an airplane? I could picture it now - little Asian men with tiny tennis rackets screaming, "Do what I say. Or I give you insignificant shock!"
I was informed by the Air Lingus agent in Phnom Penh that a second checked bag was $75, so I opened my suitcase and backpack, dumped the entire contents on the floor, and began rearranging everything while trying to put all liquids and contraband into my suitcase. Somehow, I was allowed to carry my giant backpack and a large bag which include my purse and laptop onto the plane as "carry-ons," both of which were clearly over the size and weight limit. Even more surprisingly, my overloaded backpack fit in the overhead compartment of all the planes.
All of the airport staff were extremely friendly and helpful except two in two countries: China and the U.S. No surprise there. In Beijing, my bag was flagged by a security guard who looked at me sternly said one word, "Knife!"
"I don't have a knife!" I retorted.
"Knife!" he repeated.
Fine, let's look for the nonexistent knife. I began tossing everything onto the table until there was a large mountain of books, bras, clothes, souvenirs, electronic cords, etc. After he leafed through the pages of all my books, I held up my panties and said, "You better examine these too." Meanwhile, I began thinking. Hhmmm...do I have a knife? This wouldn't be the first time. In fact, I've accidentally brought a knife through airport security on two other occasions so... Oh shit! I've got a ninja throwing star. Ooh, that might look bad. Nervously, I watched while he put everything in bins and sent it through the scanner again. By sheer luck (or ignorance on their part), the throwing star went through without notice. However, my backpack continued to show a knife. I shoved my hand down into the bottom and grasped the item which was causing such alarm - a 1 1/2 inch Gerber backpacking knife which I had used primarily for sharpening pencils to do crossword puzzles on backpacking outings. This thing was so small and dull, that the thought of using it as a deadly weapon was laughable. What's more, I was amazed to even see it. I totally forgot I even owned it. Mesmerized, I opened up the tiny blade and ran my finger across it while saying softly, "Hello, my old friend."
This was clearly not the thing to do at a Beijing security check point. Suddenly, four security guards lunged at me like vultures with bared teeth, ready to rip away my flesh. The meanest one glared at me and seethed, "Ma'am, we need to take that."
It's weird what airport security will flip out about, and what goes through unnoticed. That knife had been in my bag since I left Phoenix. I also had a tube of hand sanitizer that I always forget to take out and place in a baggie and put in it's own bin (you know the drill) that made it all the way from Phoenix to Germany before anyone mentioned it. And it wasn't until I was unpacking everything in Germany, that I realized I had a can of pepper spray in my purse the whole time.
In summary, I made it through 8 airports with pepper spray in my purse, 5 airports with a knife, and 4 airports with a ninja throwing star. Good job T.S.A.
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