A funny (in hind sight) story from my Asia region business travels…
In 2010 I was touring several major research center construction projects in Japan, China and Singapore. While in Beijing I did a little bit of shopping with some local business partners who insisted that we hit some of the back alley mom and pop shops vs department stores. We stopped at a little hole in the wall place to eat lunch, tiny place with maybe three tables and at least a dozen cats crawling all over everything (maybe they kept the rodent population under control, or maybe they were on the menu, who knows). Anyway, I had some of the best green tea I’d ever tasted there.
As I was raving about the tea one of my friends called over the owner and had what sounded like a heated discussion with him, with a lot of going back and fourth, all in Chinese, which I don’t speak. The owner walks off in a huff and a few minutes later comes back with a brick of green tea hand wrapped in cellophane. It was a very nice gift from my friends. The next day I departed to Singapore for my first time traveling to that country.
While in flight but nearing our approach to Singapore an announcement comes over the loud speaker about the penalty for smuggling drugs into the country being death. Then it hit me, in my checked bag I have a brick of tightly packed green leafy material hand wrapped in cellophane with no label or markings of any kind on it that I got from a person I don’t even know who runs a pretty shady looking little dive in a back alley, and I don’t even really know for certain that it’s tea.
No access to the checked bag, so no way to flush it down the plane toilet. Needless to say, for the next half hour I was sweating bullets with all kinds of thoughts about arrest, cavity searches and death by public hanging running around in my head. I started frantically looking up contact info for the US Consulate and emergency legal support.
Once we landed I got off the plane and cautiously made my way towards baggage claim where the infamous yellow line of death is painted on the floor. I debated about leaving the bag unclaimed but figured if I did that they’d just eventually open it and trace it back to me anyway. So I got the bag and made my way towards the immigration check. Much to my relief they rubber stamped my passport and I exited to a waiting limo for a ride to my hotel - where I promptly held my own little Boston Tea Party and broke the brick up and flushed it down the toilet. Lesson learned.