On the way to the airport, I realize I forgot my passport in my room, 200 miles from my current location, as a non-American. Since I don’t have my passport, I need to go through extra security screenings. I am asked to remove my clothes and to allow my bag to be searched. They scan my bag with a piece of paper that tests for chemicals. On the computer screen, traces of cocaine show up from the paper. I am asked to remain still, and that I will be searched for other incriminating evidence.
The man begins the patdown. Since I am incriminated, it is a thorough pat down. At one point the man runs his hands against my junk. I flinch backwards in shock. The man begins to apologize.
“Sexual Assault!” I scream.
Since the situation has become sticky for both parties involved, a supervisor is called. He arrives and gets filled in on the situation, but he is not a witness. I claim sexual assault, and that the bag is not mine. The supervisor doesn’t believe me, but he fears a lawsuit for assault. I am forced to forfeit my bag. My flight is now about to leave, but I get priority and get pushed through all checkpoints with no delay.
And that’s the story of how I arrive at Miami with no clothes. Thankfully, hidden in my underwear, I have the small bags of cocaine to pass the time . . .
