Last year we traveled to London. I had a grant and was doing research at the National Archives in London as well as a variety of other repositories in Salisbury and Wiltshire. Between the work and then a little sightseeing on the weekend, it was a pretty jam-packed week. I didn’t really have the time or the inclination to do any shopping, but I did pick up some Toblerone chocolates for my kids at the Duty-Free shop prior to our departure from Heathrow.
We arrived to Boston and were waiting for our luggage, when what I presume was a DEA agent walked by with a German shepherd. The dog sniffed all around us, jumped up on some of the luggage nearby, and then moved on. A few minutes later, another agent walked by, this time with a small beagle. The dog sniffed, paused, and sat down at my feet, staring up at me with a fixed look. The agent looked at me suspiciously. I said, the dog must smell the chocolates in my carry-on bag. The agent glared at me and said, “Maam, this dog is not trained to sniff for chocolates.” He asked for our passports and our customs declaration form, scribbled something on it, and walked away. As a result, Customs insisted on going through all of our luggage, including the dirty laundry. They started with the large suitcases, my briefcase, and finally opened my carry-on. Lo and behold, there he saw the Toblerone. He said, “Oh, you have chocolates.” I just fumed.
This time, the beagle got me again. But it happened in Philadelphia, not Boston. Before we left the hotel in Dublin, I grabbed an orange, intending to eat it before our flight departed. Well, it took longer than anticipated to check-in, go through customs, security, etc. I forgot about the orange in my purse. Bernard reminded me, but I was tired and sleepy, and I promptly forgot again. You probably know that they have very strict rules about bringing fresh fruits and vegetables into the country…it’s to avoid the Mediterranean fruit fly, mad cow disease, and other biological hazards.
I was standing with all of the luggage, waiting for Bernard who had gone to the restroom, when a woman in some kind of uniform walked by with a beagle. The dog sniffed the luggage and walked by, then he suddenly reversed, began scrambling, and pulled her back to where I was standing. He sat down and stared up at me. Busted! She asked me if I had any fresh fruit in my possession and I had to admit (and surrender) my deviant orange.
Bernard, of course, said I told you so. I don’t have much to say except that I admire the delicacy, if not the accuracy, of beagles’ sense of smell. The rest that I would like to say is unprintable.
Thanks for tuning in and best regards,
Marcsi
PS: I don’t have a picture, because it is strictly prohibited to take photographs in the Customs and Security areas of the airport. Most of the time I am a law-abiding citizen.
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