Why I won’t struggle through US customs

It’s raining outside. Nice.  And I’m here.  And by here I mean sitting at the airport waiting to board a 16 hour flight from OR Tambo to JFK.  For those unfamiliar with airport lingo, this would be leaving Johannesburg destined for New York.  Yes, I did say 16.

I have to go through customs on arrival. It’s gonna suck.  Why?  Well, America is not making many friends with their foreign policy.  Not that I have any specific problem with having a strong foreign policy.  I mean, at least someone has. A policy.  But let’s face it, on a middle school playground America would be the big kid with the rich parents, threatening social exile for the other kids, if they don’t gang up together on the one or two or three kids who might be hiding pellet guns in their back yard.

Again, I agree with strong policy.  South Africa is like the weird, small kid who used to have a famous father.  Nowadays, no-one actually cares.  So this kid is doing all kinds of odd things to make sure that he doesn’t get picked last for softball.  I love that kid.  So point is, South Africa definitely need to step up to the plate and be more hard-assed when it’s comes to managing relations with our neighbours, not that I’m saying the USA has a hard-assed approach or anything…

Moving on.  Where was I?  Customs.

The result of this intimidating friendship with the big fat kid is that anytime you’re invited to visit their house, you need to be prepared to be stripped, frisked and walk through a radio-active screen.  Numerous times.  And who said international travel isn’t any fun?

If that is not enough, we have to deal with the wonder of a custom official.  Those jolly friendly people who only need two basic skills in order to be employed. (1) You need to be able to make someone extremely uncomfortable in 10 seconds without saying a word. (2) You have to not be able to smile, like ever and (3) You need to be able to stamp.  Hard.  Ok, that’s three.

With that being said, I’m confident that I won’t have any issues with clearing customs upon arrival and here’s my five reasons why.  Provided that someone in power doesn’t read this post.  But that’s absurd, I mean it’s not like the US Government is tapping the phones or e-mail accounts of foreigners.

1. I don’t sleep on planes.  There is just something disturbing about being in the air, kept up by air. So my conscious mind doesn’t allow my subconscious to take over, not even for a second. Therefore I am going to be beyond exhausted and I couldn’t care what the security guys or gals have to do to me, to get me across that security check and into a cab.  I’m focused on my bed.

2. I don’t look like an Arab.  And I am not being racist, it’s just that I know woman who has more facial hair than me.  I mean,  I shave like once every three weeks.  Nuff said.

3.  I think I am funny.  Whether I am actually doesn’t matter because when I’m tired I consider myself to be even funnier. Check point 1.

4. I have a 10 year Visa.  Which is really important as the Men In black doesn’t allow you in their country without that little page in your passport.  Don’t worry,  I was as surprised as the next guy for getting a 10 year visa. But that is a story for another time.

5. I’m going to Gotham tomorrow night.  No geeks, that place doesn’t really exist, I meant to say the Comedy Club in New York.  What’s even more mind-blowing is that I’m going with Naptimethoughts.  This awesome lady has agreed to meet me in the Big apple and together with her hubby we’re gonna eat that whole damn thing.  Isn’t that awesome?  (I’m using awesome too much aren’t I?)  But I’m so glad to have skin, for if I didn’t, my insides would have been all over the place as I’m literally bursting with excitement.

So there is NOTHING that will keep me from getting through customs at JFK.  I’m going to be like that guy who stormed the White House in that I’m NOT going to be like him at all.  I’ll follow procedure, stand patiently in line, smile friendly and say yes sir, yes sir, yes sir, as many times as I have to.

Oh and I don’t have Ebola.  Or at least no symptoms yet.

See ya’ll soon.  And watch this space for my report on the big pink country I’m visiting over the next 10 days.


13 thoughts on “Why I won’t struggle through US customs

  1. WOOHOO!!! I can’t even remember the last time I had a night out in the city. Fun times to be had by all. And don’t worry about customs, just take off your shoes, and lay down on that thing that x-rays your carry-on. That way you’ll get a nap, as well as allowing them complete access to all your body cavities. Don’t drool, though, they’ll think you have Ebola. Bonus– it’ll make sure you don’t have any weird tumors! Really, though, don’t worry about American customs. If there’s one thing to know about America it’s that we may be big rich bullies, but we’re also incompetent. Hmmm… Maybe that’s a bad thing for you…

    Liked by 1 person

    • ACH! I do not want a call from JFK to come pick you up because you did something stupid, mister. You’re already grounded for two weeks when you get back to SA, remember.
      Don’t listen to your friends. If Scott jumped off a cliff, would you?


  2. Got a call from Pieter, he’s landed safely in NYC, with an 18 hour plane ride under his belt, he’s now planning to attend a meeting before we spend the evening taking bites out of the big apple. I’M STOKED! (poor guy. I don’t know when he’s going to sleep.)


    • Sorry for being late in my reply. I was in New York after all… And took more than a few bites. I THINK I ATE THE WHOLE DAMN THING!!

      And Naptimethoughts are even funnier in person. Thanks for the great memories.


I won't bite, I promise...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s