RAMBOS AND ROOIBOS
Getting through airport security can be frustrating, but it’s all about attitude, especially when body lotion and automatic weapons are involved, as I recently experienced.
Here’s what happened: I was invited to a conference in Warsaw, Poland. The organisers covered all my costs so the least I could do was offer a token of appreciation, something quintessentially South African. A selection of rooibos based products seemed ideal, so a colleague who consults to the Rooibos Council sourced some.
While scurrying about getting visas and whatnot, I assumed, fleetingly, that they met the guidelines on contraband. They weren’t incendiaries, acids, corrosives, magnetic, radioactive, infectious, Steve Hofmeyr CDs or any of the other stuff your airline booking warns against.
I packed it all up — a selection of teas and cosmetics — and scampered off for my Cape Town-Joburg-Frankfurt-Warsaw flights.
I got to the security gate and put my bag through the scanner. An official barked, “Is this your bag?”
“Er, which one?” There were several, like pretty maids all in a row.
A proper snarl now: “Is THI S your bag?” and he pointed at mine. I said that indeed it was. “What’s in it?”
I started opening it to show him. He grabbed it back. “I didn’t ask you to open it. I asked you what was in it.” Then he opened it anyway. He rooted through it and took out two bottles of rooibos-based lotion.
I’d put them in transparent packets but, fair cop, they were too big and I got a proper, veinbulging dressing-down while other travellers looked on impatiently.
I’ve no idea what happens to all the stuff confiscated at airports. I hope it goes to a good home — in this case, a fragrantly moisturised one — or to charity, rather than a landfill.
Duly chastened, I repacked the remaining 20 or so rooibos products and boarded my flight. The next morning, I landed in Frankfurt.
It’s big and busy and I didn’t want to miss my onward flight. Security there is very thorough but when my bag got pulled out of the procession for the second time in 11 hours, I wondered if I was in the middle of a Leon Schuster jape.
The security officer asked very politely if he could open my bag.
“Go ahead,” I said, hoping the rooibos leaves wouldn’t be mistaken for the Wild Coast’s main crop. He pulled on some gloves and ran a scanner over everything, and then very respectfully asked me to wait.
Two uniformed security officers arrived, with flak vests and side-arms, and one with an automatic rifle.
They were calmly civil to the point of deference but very alert and it was utterly clear that I wasn’t going anywhere until they allowed it.
It turned out that they’d picked up traces of explosives on my bag. Apparently, that’s not unusual for airline luggage.
I was soon on my way and after a 10-minute jog to Gate A65, made it onto my connecting flight, sweaty and bemused.
The surviving rooibos samples were handed out to my delighted hosts.
Later, I compared the two experiences: the first, a spittle-flecked bollocking over a slightly big bottle of moisturiser. The second experience potentially involved a serious threat to travellers — explosives — and was handled without an ounce of eye-bulging, Rambo-style posturing.
Perhaps we need to get the German airport security personnel to come and offer lessons on how to be thorough and firm without being threatening.
We could offer them rooibos-infused therapy sessions in return.
Do you have a funny or quirky story about your travels? Send 600 words to travelmag@sundaytimes.co.za and include a recent photo of yourself for publication with the column.