On my list was everything that I had not with me when I left home: a box of chocolate $5, (“Kalev”, an Estonian premium brand), ½ liter or liqueur I guessed $6 (“Vana Tallinn,” of course, a traditional gift given when the giver wants to show he/she really cares), a CD of a song fest $10 (I guessed,) and three more small items.
With a bureaucratic friendly smile an officer said just follow the blue line. And yes, just like in zard of OZ there was a wide line marked on the floor, except it was blue. No explanations.
As directed, I pulled the suitcase onto a motionless conveyer belt. As he put his rubber gloves on an unrelated flashback race thought my mind of a doctor's visit. Not that! He now started to take out my carefully folded clothes on top. I could see he was making a mess so I tried to help him, but he ordered tersely for me to stand back. Wow! Why I asked, he said “for my safety”. This I could not grasp – why, this was my suitcase and he should have known that I know that there is nothing unsafe in it to harm me. It gave me certain pleasure that he was sorting through my dirty underwear and smelly socks. But what was he looking for?
He then came to bundle of papers, passports like documents and work records that represented several decades of work of my cousin in the soviet Estonia. I intend to write about it in a book now in process. My cousin did not escape from Estonia in 1944 as the Soviets reoccupied the country and she had to live under the Soviet state controlled system in which everything was written down. Here was the record of her whole life. Anyone with any education was continually under surveillance. Telephone calls were monitored or recorded to be used later as needed. Little bureaucrats who were given little power used anything to detain or make accusations. My cousin, an architect, was in charge of restoring historic buildings. Frustrated with this oppressive system, she committed suicide in the 1980's, though official documents state that she died of an alcohol related illness. I felt like telling the custom officer all that but decided not to. He may not even known why there was a cold war with the Soviets, nor see the parallel with the current event.
The officer said that I seemed “jumpy”. I said I had plenty of time to get to my next flight but I was anxious to call my wife as soon as cell phones were allowed, to “freshen up” and eat something decent. So I said, yes, I am jumpy, and have to take a…
It may have all started at the gate. I am convinced that the first customs officer was disturbed because two people had entered the magic red line in front of his desk. Only one person may enter his desk and by gosh, by his careless gesture he had gotten two customers in front of him. Unheard of! Would never have happened in Nazi Germany. So he had to punish me by sending me onto the path with a blue line. And here I was humiliated and treated at this conveyer belt as a criminal – I who had numerous secret clearances before retirement!
Well I am not totally pure I have to confess. When I visited Soviet occupied Estonia in 1982 I was searched thoroughly at the exit gate to the harbor. The officers there too were courteous enough, but they did find and confiscated a banned book by Dostayewsky ” I day in the life of …” They found it despite the fact that I had torn off the cover of the book. They ex-rayed my chocolate box (Kalev, of course) three times. What secrets could I have smuggled out in these? Then again turning to the Detroit officer, what did he look for? After all things are screened before they get on the plane in Amsterdam plane.
The officer left saying “you can go”. My suitcase's content was strewn on the conveyer belt, taking up about 6 feet of it. I forgot to take a photo of it, but said to him “you must have lots of laughs with passengers.” The three officers seemed to have too little to do.
Arved Plaks, Houston, Texas
