Peggy and I were innocent victims. The apple was using us for its nefarious purposes. The staff at our hotel in Bucharest had slipped apples into breakfast paper bags when Peggy and I, along with her brother John and wife Frances, checked out at 2 AM. They had included a sandwich made up a slice of cheese and a slice of ham on white bread without any condiments, plus— the piece de resistance— a two-bite muffin. I’d eaten the sandwich and muffin on our ride out to the Bucharest Henri Coandă International Airport. I was suspicious of my apple, however. It had a not-right feeling. I tossed it into a trash can. Let the Romanian authorities deal with it.
Peggy, on the other hand, had visions of eating the apple somewhere along the way on our seemingly endless journey as a defense against starvation. She slipped it into an extra bag she was carrying for gifts and the apple immediately burrowed itself into the bottom of the bag, where it hoped to be forgotten. I can’t blame it for not wanting to be eaten, but apparently it had other motives as well. I don’t know what John and Frances did with theirs. I’d watched Frances cut up lots of them on our trip down the Danube, however. As for John, it probably depended on his political assessment of the apple. Had he thought of it as liberal, or radical, he would have consumed it on the spot, down to its very seeds. Had it been Libertarian, he would have coddled it, possibly even slipping it into Texas where the laws are different (not really, when it comes to US Customs).
We had a 4 hour layover in Zurich where the apple would have been consumed except we were traveling business class and could hang out at the Swiss Air lounge where all sorts of goodies were available for eating. Likewise, we were fed two full meals on our flight from Switzerland to Virginia. The apple continued its happy and secretive existence in the bottom of the gift bag— until we were in the middle of a massive crowd of people slowly making our way toward the passport check stations. It was then that Peggy saw the sign: “All travelers entering the United States are Required to Declare meats, fruits, vegetables, plants, seeds, soil, animals, as well as plant and animal products (including soup or soup products) they may be carrying. The declaration must cover all items carried in checked baggage, carry-on luggage, or in a vehicle.” The food might contain dangerous pests. Not declaring it is a crime subject to fines up to $10,000!
It was an “Oh poop,” moment. Oh well. Having lived in California for many years, we were used to border checks for fruit. We either got rid of it before entering the state or declared it if we hadn’t. I’d stopped being overly concerned when the border checks were frequently unmanned. If we declared fruits, the guards told us to throw it into a nearby trash can, or eat it. So much for the dangerous pests.
When we reached passport control, Peggy bravely pulled the offending apple out of her bag and explained why she had forgotten it. “Here, you can have it,” Peggy offered with one of her dazzling, disarming smiles. “Or is there a place I can toss it?” The agent reacted like Peggy was offering her a dead rat with the bubonic plague. She grabbed Peggy’s passport and locked it up in a plastic box for Peggy to carry. “Follow that red line to Custom detention,” she told her. Suffering from guilt by association, I was directed to go with her.
We opened the door and a very stern looking fellow took Peggy’s passport and glared at the apple. We were told to go sit on the side with a lot of other people. We would be allowed to go when and If the agents found no more apples in our luggage, which, at the time, was going around and around on the Swiss Air’s luggage carousel. “Can I go pick up the bags and bring them back here?” Peggy asked. “No” was the terse reply. “You will not bring fruit into the country,” we were reminded again. We were very close to being criminals. Agents would go collect our luggage so we wouldn’t try to escape.
A sign declared we were to take no photos or record any conversations. I understood why. Four agents were standing in the back of the room sorting through a pile of garbage four feet high and four feet across, carefully pulling out each piece and examining it. I certainly wouldn’t want my photo taken doing that. I hoped that they were well paid. As for the no photos, I wasn’t going to take any photos of their secretive activities, but I really did want a photo of the apple.
I pulled out my MacBook Pro and opened Photo Booth. Positioning my apple where I wanted, I pushed the red cameral symbol. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP the computer went as it counted down. The wasn’t an ‘Oh poop’ moment. It was an “Oh shit” moment. I imagined guys with guns rushing over to grab me. I quickly closed my laptop and waited. Nobody seemed to have noticed. The problem was, I wasn’t happy with the photo.
Out came my laptop again, this time with the sound turned off. I positioned the apple just so (as you see it above) and snapped another photo. The only thing I could see in the photo that might be considered in the no-take area was a TV that featured Mr. Potato Head on the left and an orangish looking guy with horns on the right. Satisfied, I put the laptop away and we waited. And waited. Another family of four was in the same strait we were. The daughter had brought a closed package of beef jerky to give to her brother, which was apparently a crime even more serious than ours. Her father was roaming around like an angry bee.
A half hour passed, and then an hour, and then an hour and a half. Each time the agents brought in luggage, Peggy and the dad would jump up to see if ours was included. Nada. Once the agents brought in 20 pieces from a French airline. Who knows what that was about. Maybe the French were trying to smuggle in a hundred pounds of Foie gras. The French fellow they were holding couldn’t (or wouldn’t) identify any of the luggage. I felt for all of the passengers who were wondering where in the heck their luggage had disappeared to.
Finally, the dad went over to talk to the “Big Guy,” who stood about five feet tall, and asked if he could go out with an agent and identify his luggage. Maybe the fellow was feeling a little guilty about the dad’s long wait with children. He said yes. Peggy, who knows an opportunity when it knocks, ran over and requested the same privilege. Five minutes later Peggy and the dad showed up with the luggage that the agents hadn’t been able to find in two hours. Ten minutes later our luggage had been scanned, Peggy had her passport back, and we were free to go. It was one AM in Bucharest. We had been traveling for close to 24 hours. All’s well that ends well. We had been worried that the following photo may have shown our fate.
Wandering through Time and Place 
Should I be close to this criminal activity?Steve
You’re absolutely right there, Crystal. But a story is a story. 😳
Not sure why, the Crystal response came in there, Steve, given that I was responding to Crystal above… But yes, you should definitely keep far away from this criminal activity. Never, I repeat never, try to slip an apple into the US. The Mekemsons are dangerous people to associate with!
I recall several places, New Zealand in particular, where we found trash bins before we got to customs specifically designated for “illegal fruits and vegetables.”
Your adventure makes a good story, but I suspect one you would have rather foregone.
That was my thought too: well, they got a story out of it, but I’m sure they would rather have collected a different story.
Bone and I once had a confrontation with a New Zealand Customs agent, Ray. Fortunately, his sense of humor was better than his US counterparts. Peggy always gets smiles out of grumpy people. She consider’s it a challenge, a goal in life. There wasn’t one from the agents, however. Again, if it were my job to confiscate apples from innocent people and search through piles of trash, I might be a little grumpy as well. But, we did get a story out of it! Grin.
Well that seems a very dramatic overreaction to one single apple. My goodness. Lesson mot definitely learned. I’m glad this story had a happy ending.
Me too. A picture of you doing handstands in the detention center just passed through my mind. Grin. Would have loved to have seen that and the reaction.
OK, fellow scofflaws Peggy and Curt. We snuck our Romanian apple, one of them anyway, through customs, mostly because we forgot about it. The evidence has been destroyed, er, consumed. Several years ago, after landing in LAX, Frances made the “mistake” of announcing she had an apple (an Australian refugee). It cost us an hour or so and our own special inspection before we were free to continue on to Austin.
Aha! So the lesson here is: if you have fruit, don’t tell!
Maybe safer to eat it before arriving! 🙂
Curt & Peggy, having crossed the California border a million times and having my own fruit stories on the border, I would have done exactly what you did, and looked for the fruit bin or started trying to eat it on the spot. It never would have occurred to me that you would get your passport confiscated. Yikes! So glad you didn’t get put behind bars, Peggy. But I’m sure you would have been released for good behavior. Looking forward to the rest of the story. ❤
Laughing. I’m not so sure about Peggy’s good behavior, Crystal. After umpteen hours of travel with severe sleep deprivation, her sense of humor was a bit on the thin side.
I once suggested to a conservative California lawmaker whose primary concern was boondoggle spending that the Inspection stations were a waste of taxpayers dollars given their on-again/off-again staffing. Turns out he wasn’t interested. One of the stations was in his district. It was his boondoggle.
Wherever you two go, it’s an adventure!
Usually good ones, G. 😄 Tangling with US Customs? Not so much. I’m surprised we aren’t still being held in detention. I wonder if Customs would be feeding us illegal apples to keep us alive…
haha, could be!!
Not exactly the apple of good and evil, but it caused its own sort of trouble. I knew vaguely about restrictions like this (a pecan company I’ve purchased from has a note in their catalogue that they can’t ship to California or Arizona), but if I ever contemplate crossing a border again, I’ll be sure to be alert. I wonder if Oklahoma checks for brisket at the Red River?
Laughing, Linda. I’m pretty sure that Oklahoma allows for Texas brisket. It would be insane not to. The mere thought of brisket makes my mouth water.
In all of our travels around the US, California is the only state we have ever had to deal with agricultural inspection stations. We did run into several illegal immigrant inspection stations in Arizona, however.
How extraordinary! Australia’s quarantine system is strict, but officials are usually gracious about genuine mistakes.
A sense of humor and forgiveness is apparently not allowed in the US custom service, Peggy. New Zealand, like Australia, has a strict quarantine system, but after a lot of fast explaining by me, they let Bone through with a sigh several years ago. That’s when we decided Bone’s days of international travel were limited!
Thanks for ensuring that I keep my wits (and no food) about me when entering the USA. Regards to Bone.
Great story Curt, I enjoyed it.
Thanks Andrew. Not exactly how we wanted to spend two hours at the end of a very long day of travel, but at least I got a tale out of it.
When things go wrong there is always a story to tell.
When we landed in India before we left the aircraft we were sprayed with some sort of antiseptic potion. India!
I remember that happening to us in New Zealand, Andrew. Not pleasant. Even Bone objected.
Your great adventure to Romania couldn’t end better😍
I know some countries can be very particular with such items. It always amuses me when we cross the border into US we are asked if we have bananas. Wouldn’t they know that Canadian market has imported bananas right from US? LOL
Looking forward to hear about your stories, I didn’t know you were going to Romania, hope you had an amazing time there!!
You probably remember the traveling Bone who has visited more than 50 countries, Christie. We no longer allow him to travel out of the US for fear that some over-enthusiastic customs agent will grab and deep-six him. We almost lost him in New Zealand several years ago.
Of the seven countries we visited going down the Danube, Romania was our favorite, but each offered interesting and often fun things to see and do, I should start with Vienna a week from Monday.
You better keep Bone safe, at home, for sure!
Glad you liked Romania❤️💛💙
There must be something particularly nefarious about those eastern block apples. We had much the same eat it or toss it experience when leaving Prague. But I don’t generally have much of an appetite at four in the morning. You’d think the hotels would know better, especially for a group of foreigners leaving god-awful early in the morning. Where do they think we’re going?
Nicely written story.
Thanks, Dave.
You know the old story: It only takes one bad apple and that one was indeed nefarious. I’m not at all sure why we requested the food. Maybe because they owed us a “breakfast.” Had we known the quality, we would have certainly skipped it. Just possibly, the apple was not to blame.