Dubai is Not Dangerous

Before flying to the U.S. for 4th of July reunions, I packed some presents from Myanmar and Thailand that I planned to bring to friends and family. Included amongst those goodies were a few aromatic Thai inhalers. These camphor-filled cylinders must look like bullets to an airport x-ray machine. The Bangkok security team pulled me aside.

At first I couldn’t think what they could be worried about, but when the guard and I opened the suitcase and discovered the inhalers, we both had a good laugh. Strangely, at the Chiang Mai airport, before taking the short hop to Bangkok for my connection to the States, I had sailed through unchallenged.

A few hours later I approached the third check of the day. In Dubai, all transit passengers must re-scan their carry-on bags. This time a large woman wearing a head covering stood up from her position at the x-ray machine. She was not smiling as she waved me over to a table near the conveyor belt. I knew she wanted me to feel scared of her, but I just smiled and prepared to explain.

Even when she pointed at my second bag, which contained no inhalers, I still couldn’t feel concerned. Then she announced, “You have knife.” It was not a question. I opened the small pack to show her a harmonica that sometimes confuses x-ray readers. She shook her head, taking over the unpacking. It was an awkward moment. I knew I had nothing to hide, she knew she had seen a knife. The more I smiled, the more she glared. 

She removed a book, laptop charger, toothpaste, hat. Finally all alone at the bottom of the pack was a small bag containing Burmese snacks… and my mother-in-law’s six-inch-long kitchen knife.

I was stunned. The last time I had seen that knife, about three weeks earlier, it had stowed away in a package I was bringing back to Chiang Mai from Jip’s village. I could imagine a few different ways it could have ended up in this daypack, but in fact I wasn’t sure. I was sure that nothing I could say would sound convincing to the intimidating man who replaced the intimidating woman. He took my passport and boarding pass with him to a desk, where he began documenting my crime. I began crafting the speech that would explain the true story of the knife’s journey.

“Well, sir,” I imagined saying, “my mother in law loaned me some old photographs. We used a knife to cut the string when we wrapped them in newspaper. Without our noticing, the knife became lost in the package. I didn’t find it until I untied the pictures at the photo shop where I scanned them.

“Later, I tossed the knife in with a large bag of food gifts that I purchased in Naypyidaw. All of these bundles traveled home with me on the bus. Now I’m taking those same gifts to the U.S. It never occurred to me that the knife would still be in the bag….”

I didn’t move as I rehearsed this speech. Something told me to avoid doing anything they might consider furtive. My connecting flight departed in under an hour. I wondered if I would be allowed to get on it. The ominous man walked back over to me to start his interrogation.

“What…” he began.

I opened my mouth to explain.

“…is your nationality?” he continued.

Surely this was a trick. He was still holding my passport, face up. He had just written down my information. There had to be a catch. But on short notice I couldn’t see it, so I simply answered, “I’m American.”

To which he nodded, handed me my documents, and walked away. I made my connecting flight. Before passing through Dubai on the way back to Thailand, I believe I’ll triple check the bottom of my luggage.