Brisbane Gayers
Following on from my Japanese Erotica story, I arrived fresh in Brisbane (after being upgraded to club) and made my way to the baggage carousel. Now, let's go back three days, i'd had some particularly smelly weed in my wallet and decided that i'd give it to my mate until i got back. Back to Brisbane now (where i was attending a wedding) and I'd just got my case when this security guard pops up with his sniffer dog (the little cnut). Anyway, the dog starts going garrity at me and everyone starts staring. The guard asks to see what's in my pockets so i hand him my 'smelly' wallet. He takes a whiff and casts me an accusing glance. Opening it, he says, "you like to smoke a bit of weed?" I claimed i'd been to Amsterdam recently, he wants to know why there's no Amsterdam stamp in my passport, I tell him it's because EU countries don't stamp each other's passports and he gives me my stuff back. Easy, i thought. So, when i make my way to the arrivals hall, 4 of the guards mates are there to usher me into a room so they can search my stuff. They take my bags apart, take all my credit cards and basically have a field day. One of them claims that he's found 'traces' of cocaine on my bank card (un-fucking-likely because i've never done it) and the another one dives into my wash-kit only to bring his hand out covered in shampoo. The pressure of the hold much have made it explode. All the while i'm sitting there thinking 'fuck, i've jsut spent 25 hours travelling and they're about to send me straight back. I'll have wasted £600 and missed my mate's wedding'. Then, suddenly, having grudgingly given up any hope of finding a massive haul of narcotics on me, they just opened a door and told me to 'get lost'. Thanks then. Wakners.
( Fray Brentos *mega-belms*, Sat 4 Mar 2006, 13:53, Reply)