So, the good news is I'm not in jail...

[przed]

The bad news is I got detained at the border on my way to MediaWest. For an hour and a half.

It all started when the officer at U.S. customs asked me to pop my trunk. Since I was carrying 20 copies of my vids, I knew I was in trouble. When she asked me to pull over to the side, I knew I was in big trouble.

Customs Dude: So, what's on the disks?
Me: Music videos I've made.
Customs Dude: Is this copyrighted material?
Me: Uhhhh.

Needless to say, this did not go well. Just try and explain song vids and fandom to a nice, clean-cut, young customs dude. While your adrenal glands are going into overdrive.

Customs Dude: Why do you make these videos?
Me: Ummm...
Customs Dude: How did you start doing this?
Me: I honestly have no idea how to answer that. Have you got 3 hours?

Then they stuck me in a little plastic chair in the lobby while they thoroughly searched my car.

Customs Dude: Is there anything I should know about in the car? Any weapons, explosives drugs?
Me: Um, no.

Then left me waiting longer while they watched the vids.

Customs Dude: We're going to have to refer this to a senior officer.

Customs dudes and dudettes file in and out of the office where they've taken the disk. At one point, three older customs dudes, complete with typical cop moustaches, stand at the back of the office and stare at me for ten minutes. All the while, I'm playing nightmare scenarios in my head. What if they confiscate the vids? What if they confiscate my car? What if they arrest me and THROW ME IN JAIL?

At one point, I start cycling through what's on the disks. I don't think there's anything too bad, until I realize the new vid is on the disk. The one called Pop A Boner. The one will lots and lots of male nudity and several shots of boys kissing boys. The adrenaline in my system hits record levels.

Finally, after an hour and a half, the nice, clean-cut, young customs dude comes back with the duffel containing my vids. And gives it back to me.

Customs Dude: We're going to give them back to you but...
Me: Don't do it again.
Customs Dude: Yeah. Basically. And if you want to do it again, mail the disks ahead.
Me: Um, okay.

So, I get in my car, drive to the first rest stop, leave a hysterical message on my sweetie's voicemail and do the rest of the drive to Lansing.

Fortunately, the rest of the con was fabulous and amazing, but I really could have done with a better start.

And at least I'm not in jail.

Comments

[gwyn-r.livejournal.com]

Gaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Holy crap.

You know, one weird thing about Yank customs agents -- they love the show of force of popping your trunk and inspecting it. Sometimes when you get a really macho asshat, he'll make sure to pull his beatstick out, too (this all sounds bizarrely sexual, doesn't it?), just to be extra threatening. The trick, apparently, is to never put anything iffy in the trunk. I've gotten in the habit now of crossing with anything that could be problematic in the front of the car, usually under a coat or something on the back seat, if it's not too huge. They focus intently on trunks, but almost never pay attention to the things inside the car. I used to go up all the time with this person who became nearly hysterical at the border and would start trying to admit things that were perfectly legal, but she was so unglued about everything that she made them sound illegal, and I got in the habit of preparing, even though now I usually go up with much calmer folks.

not that this, of course, in any way helps what happened to you.

[przed.livejournal.com]

The funny thing was it was a woman who popped the trunk. (I have way more problems when I go to women customs agents than men.)

But the tip about putting stuff in the back seat is a good one. She didn't check there at first; it was the second young dude who ripped the car apart.