Abventure 2: Customs

This morning I had to go to Barajas airport (which isn't that far, but half of Madrid's metro staff are on strike today, so it took >2hrs) to pick up an all-important package that got stuck in customs (how could I have expected to live in Spain for a yr with out an ample supply of York Peppermint Patties??)

I figured while I was there I might as well elucidate the solution to salient pending dilemma: How am I supposed to get back to the states a year from now, armed with such a lethal weapon as my pack will soon be?

I asked the question to the customs official, but my Spanish must not have been clear enough, so I proceeded to lift my shirt to demonstrate... and before I could reveal my pack in its entirety,
one of the officials jumped the counter and was waving his arms hysterically trying to get me to drop my weapon. He didn't bother dislodging his baton or his gun, because after all, he knew that for combating my pack those weapons were as good as a lone man wielding a melting ice cream cone would be to halt a stampeding pack of horsemen. No match for my pack.


(photo semi-discretely taken before all the action at Customs by a very bemused man from Cuenca who later, bizarrly enough, scribbled down his # and passed it to me as he was fleeing the scene. )

As I had not intended to cause such great alarm, I lowered my weapon and attempted to explain my question again. The guard and all involved were audibly relieved at my alleged surrender, and the guard gradually came to understand my question about how to return home with my pack. He gave me an honest answer that I would not be permitted to board a plane possessing such a weapon, and that it would unequivocally be detected if I attempted to penetrate security. He proceeded to explain that because loaded firearms are prohibited to be sent via mail, I would also not be able to send my pack home by mail. Lastly, he then divulged in a hushed voice that if I was unwilling to surrender my weapon, in reality, my only option would be to swim to Morocco, trek my way over to Somalia, make good friends with an adept clan of pirates assume a pirate name ("Redbeard" ), bombard and conquer a ship and redirect it round the globe to NC. It seems reasonable enough, but alas, that's another adventure in it of itself and will only prove to be absolutely necessary if in another 7 weeks I have succeeded in creating the master weapon. Until then, I'm abpropriately noting that it's best to keep even a 2-packer concealed as it has the potential to cause great undue alarm (and/or intrigue (if you're a strange man from Cuenca...)).

-Tizona