Home Again

I don't know what it is, but I often seem to be in trouble with security and/or customs.

The first time I remember was in Copenhagen when I had trouble about the knife I was carrying (1980).

Then I had that issue with the guns when we came back from Spain (2000).

At Washington, D.C., National Airport we had an issue with a pencil sharpener.  Not. Kidding. (ok, it was right after they'd re-opened post-9/11, but still).

There was the jam that was confiscated in Canada because I refused to check it (last May).

I'm sure there were other incidents that are not coming to mind at the moment.

Today, when I came back from London I had a really, really hard time with the question,

"What was the purpose of your travel to London?" 

I had to push down a very strong urge to reply, 

"To visit the Queen!" 

But push it down I did. I also pushed down the giggles. 

That said, when I was at the customs area and they asked me if I had food I replied, without hesitation, 

"No."

The nice young man asked me to put my bags flat on the belt and when they'd passed through he asked, with a slightly accusatory tone and very confidently, 

"What food do you have in the bag, ma'am?" 

To which I replied, confidently and perhaps a bit defensively, 

"None!" 

and then, after a pause, 

"Oh, I bought cookies at the airport ... " 

He asked if perhaps I had an apple. 

"No!" 

He asked if he could look through the suitcase. 

"Of course!" 

(still confident).

And what did he find?

My food stash for the flight, which I forgot about.  And hadn't opened.  It was purchased in Minnesota.

All I could say was,

"Oh!  Oooops!"