During a trip to Jordan many years ago, I purchased two fancy daggers from a bazaar. You know how it is with souvenirs, especially if you see something exotic.
On my way back to Singapore, I declared to the Jordanian airport customs what I was packing. They had no issue. They gave me a piece of formal paper like a receipt, and left the daggers with the security guy to carry on board the plane. I was told the security guy would released them to me when the plane landed in Kuala Lumpur during my transit.
At Kuala Lumpur airport, the security guy handed the daggers to me outside the doors of the plane. His job was done.
The Malaysians, aware of what I was carrying, gave me another piece of formal paper that allows me to carry the daggers on board the shuttle. I assumed everything would be fine when I landed in Singapore. Everybody was cool, everybody had common sense… until I arrived in Singapore.
Upon my arrival at Singapore airport, I took the liberty to declare what I had in my possession. I even showed the authorities the papers I was carrying. Wrong move.
The next thing I knew, I was hauled into a room and interrogated by the police. The police officers adopted an aggressive tone when they spoke to me. Arms crossed, they asked me why I bought those daggers, and even wanted to know what else I had in my suitcase.
Of course, I was humored by the enlarged situation. For me, it was entertainment seeing their exaggerated behavior. I realized, of course, it was pointless discussing with these people. I knew I had to break it down for them. So this is what I said to the senior uniform officer sitting behind the desk as the rest flanked me:
“If I really wanted to harm someone, I wouldn’t bother going all the way to Jordan to buy daggers, and then declare what I was carrying. I just have to walk into my grandmother’s kitchen, borrow her Japanese steak knives to do something nasty. Believe me, she’s got sharp ones.”
My explanation sunk into the senior officer’s mind. He let me keep the daggers, but it had to be quarantined for two weeks at the Police Arms & Explosives Division before they were returned to me. As the saying goes, everything is bigger in Texas.
