foreign "culture"

Those of you who have ever returned from traveling overseas might be familiar with the ever-joyous white and blue Customs Declaration form everyone must fill out upon landing in the U.S. On this form you have the opportunity to rat yourself out for any number of forbidden items you might be attempting to bring into the country, including plant seeds, fruits and vegetables, animal products, meats, etc. (they have a particular interest in salami, I learned from previous travels -- see earlier blog) along with other oh-so-likely imports such as the skins of endangered animals, disease agents, snails, insects, obscene materials, toxic substances, cell cultures, and soil (does a chunk of the Berlin wall count?) It also gets a little personal about how much money you have, how much your souvenirs cost and whether you've been "close" to livestock lately, but I digress. My favorite part of the form says something like "if you have any of these things, contact customs before you get to the United States," which is especially helpful since these forms are usually distributed about 30 minutes before you land.

After a number of stern warnings about what U.S. Customs and Border Protection prohibits and expects and has a right to do to you, the form manages a weak "Welcome to the United States."

After having visited upwards of 12-14 other countries, I daresay that the entry process into the U.S. is anything but welcoming, even for its own citizens. The weary traveler finds himself herded into the bleak, warehouse-like customs building where he languishes in long, stuffy lines while waiting his turn to be questioned and grilled (and in the case of non-residents, questioned, grilled, fingerprinted and photographed). While he waits, he is subjected to a "welcome video" on several large screens above the queues that depicts a number of Border Protection agents reminding him that "we take the entry process very seriously." Even I, as a U.S. citizen and an honest, non-animal-skins-or-illegal-narcotics-bearing traveler, find myself clutching my passport and entry document in my nervous, sweaty palm, waiting for my turn under the scrutinizing eye of the ever-powerful Border Control agent. I ruminate on everything in my luggage, wondering what might get me hauled away and mentally developing a speech about why it was necessary to bring back (not one, but) two packets of Czech cookies and how the Polish condensed milk is stashed inside my snow boot not to be concealed, but to save room. I can only imagine how intimidating this process must be for the first-time visitor to this country, especially for the non-English speaker.

As I wait agonizingly for Christian to come through the foreign visitors line, I watch the visitors, one after another, approach their designated agent to submit a fingerprint; if they've been in the country before, the border agent's monitor displays their mug shot, current and prior fingerprint, and large text announcing, "SUBJECT VERIFIED." It's like entering a high-security prison where there's just been an escape; you almost expect to see someone dragged away, moaning and howling, "it wasn't me; it wasn't me!" The entire place is infused with a fear that is almost palpable, and feels liable to erupt into a five-alarm calamity at the slightest provocation. I think the only way they can make the process more terrifying is to install electric barbed wire around the queues and subject people to random shocks. We could watch a video that reassures us that in the U.S., shocking foreign visitors is just another way to show our hospitality. Welcome to the United States!

Anyway, I pulled one over on the Department of Customs and Border Protection this time. Salami, you ask? The skins of endangered animals? No, even better. In my toasty little throat, that I thought was just scratchy from the fatigue of 48 hours in transit, I was harboring a DISEASE CULTURE. That's right -- some strange, Eastern European strain of strep throat managed to smuggle its little way into the United States with me as its vessel. And no one was any the wiser.

Not that I'm proud of bringing in a bacteria that might end up causing an outbreak all over town. I guess I just felt a little smug at the CVS minute clinic, when the nurse practitioner (who was just in the process of giving me the spiel about how there's a lot of viral throat junk floating around right now and that we test for strep as a precaution but generally rest and fluids are the best medicine) glanced at my test and exclaimed in surprise "…and, you're going to have a positive strep culture." As if I would be mediocre enough to catch something locally. Hmph! The latest Polish bacterial strains are much more en vogue, but I wouldn't expect mere peasants to appreciate that.

Eat that with your salami, Border Control.