Me and the Customs Agent

I couldn't tell you my other story until I broke the news of the The Rock, as it plays a part in this little travel anecdote.

After leaving St. Maarten, we landed in Charlotte, (finally!), and had to go through Customs. I only bought perfume so I put that on my customs form. (Theirry Mugler's Angel for $56 - what a bargain!) We line up with everyone else in the world and patiently wait our turn.

Our customs agent was a nice lady, and she seemed to have a personality and a sense of humor - yay! So, when she asked how the vacation was, I said "it was great, I got engaged!" and showed her The Rock. She immediately stopped smiling, looked at Craig and said "did you take that into the country with you?" I thought, oh fan-freakin-tastic. We're going to get arrested for illegal import of jewelry. All I wanted to do was tell someone my happy news, and now we're going to jail.

He explained that he did bring it with him and she asked if he had his receipt. Of course we didn't bring it, but he should have brought it, because he should KNOW that I am an idiot. Then she asked where he bought it, and I chimed in with that information and offered to show her the box with the jeweler's name and address, which thank GAWD was in my carry-on bag.

She mulled all this over, and then said to Craig "it seems like you had this planned, so I believe you. But if you ever do this again..." and he interrupted with "uh, no way in HELL am I doing this again..." she told us to make sure we declared it from the get-go and brought the receipt, just in case. She also said if we bought loose stones, as long as they weren't set, they could be imported duty-free. But if you buy set stones, then there is a duty. Who knew? Well, you do now, so let that be a lesson to you.

She let us go and we quickly walked away. Craig just looked at me and shook his head. I felt soooooo horrible. After all the water and aloe vera gel incidents, he had told me "if we make it back to STL without getting arrested, I'll be surprised." And then I go and get all girly 'oooh I'm in love' on the Customs Agent. *headsmack*

The moral of the story - don't travel with me. Or if you do travel with me, don't stand near me, just act like you don't know me. It won't hurt my feelings. All I ask in return is that you please answer your phone when I'm in airport jail and need to be bailed out. Danke.