It's been about 20 minutes and the palms of my hands are beginning to sweat.
"What's going on?" I think to myself "Will I pay a fine? Will they deport me back to Canada!?"
Irrational thoughts roll through my head, as only they can when passing through border immigration.
The man who took my passport, has now called a colleague over to discuss my case. I feel my back starting to sweat so I place my pack down, and deliberate whether to run, or face the bullets head on.
It all started two weeks ago, when Serena informed me that we will be taking baby formula with us when we visit her family for the spring festival (Chinese New Year). Her cousin is expecting, and unfortunately China has been stricken with numerous food safety scandals, to which formula has not been made exception. The latest scandal involved boiling down leather to supply the protein in a popular brand of infant formula.
"No, problem!" I said at the time.
While the Breastfeeding vs. baby formula debate briefly danced through my head. I figured that having non-toxic baby formula on hand sounded like a reasonable request.
But now everything has changed. The border guards know I'm hiding something, they can smell my fear. There are three of them now, and one is on the phone with the higher ups.
Before leaving Hong Kong, Serena and I made sure that we didn't take more than the maximum amount allowed. But now I'm not so sure. Did the rules change? Is it different for foreigners? Is it really milk powder in those tins? Or is baby formula slang for some illegal substance? That's it! I've been duped, and have found myself as an unsuspecting drug mule.
I think back to the pharmacist who sold it to us. I never trusted him, the lone white glove, he wore Michael Jackson style, and the pot of boiled greens he quickly slurped down as we approached the counter. The certificate that hung on the wall behind him, from the Hong Kong pharmacy and poison board, must surely have been a fake. He must be in on this, switching the baby formula for something more insidious at the counter.
As the guards continue to examine my passport, and I go through every possible worst case scenario, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket.
A message from Serena, we were split up at the border, since she is native Chinese and I'm a foreigner.
"Is everything alright?" her message reads
"Don't seem panicky" I think to myself
"Should be soon ;)" I type with shaky hands.
"Okay, I'm outside :)" She responds.
Something should be soon. The guards have broken their huddle, and one of them walks briskly towards me.
He doesn't say a word. Nothing needs to be said, we both know I'm guilty. I close my eyes and cringe, as I raise my hands to accept the handcuffs. But instead of feeling hard steel on my wrist, I feel something slide into the palm of my right hand. I open my eyes and see my passport. The guard, looking bored, waves me through.
Relief sweeps over me.
They didn't even check my bag, and I now realize there was no way they would have known that I was even carrying milk powder. Yet my imagination tells me I just successfully smuggled an illegal substance across the Chinese border. My clammy hands still shaking, I sling the bag of "milk powder" over my shoulder. I take a deep breath and walk to find my co-conspirator waiting on the other side.
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