Fines, Fines, Everywhere Fines
Something in this World is Changing My Lines
Chicago, USA

Old Laces

I kept telling friends that I'd see them in DC or NYC--"provided my shoestrings don't break." After getting smacked with unforeseen charges in Shanghai, San Francisco and Sacramento (granted, my own fault), I've decided that, well, they've broken.

In Shanghai, with my four bags, I was two bags over the check-in limit. Each bag was going to cost $110US. I baulked. I stood there stunned for several minutes asking the counter girl what I could do. "Well, you can cry, but that won't help."The counter staff at All Nippon Airlines helped me and Yutian break open the bag of clothes and stuff a box of books inside. Then we taped the mess up. The zippers wouldn't even meet.

I paid the fine for my guqin. She's a special girl and worth it. I couldn't be without her long enough to mail her.

Beijing Duck: Straining, but not Breaking

In San Francisco customs, I got selected for the "agriculture" line. I thought this was because of my recent exposure to farm animals, but no, something much more sinister lurked in this vegetarian's taped up bag of books and clothes.

"Do you have any animal products in here," the stern Homeland Security frontliner said pointing to my close-to-bursting bag of mystery.

"Not that I know of."

"Well, I'm interested in what's in the bottom of this, so we're gonna have to cut it open," he said, brandishing a bowie knife and cutting dangerously close to my suit. He pulled out a bag of DVDs. "These wouldn't happen to be pirated DVDs would they?"

"I bought them all in stores," I said, knowing full-well that some of them came from the kind of stores that lurk under bus stops. "If they're pirated, I didn't know."

"Well, they're all pirated, and that's illegal, but I'll let you off this once." He reached further into my gaping, wounded, prideless plastic luggage bag. "And what do we have here? Fake Nike shoes."

"Oh, those are for a friend who wanted me to pick out some ambiguously-branded shoes." They had a fake swoosh.

"Anything with a shwoosh that isn't Nike is illegal too."

"I didn't know." I wasn't lying.

Finally he pulled out a department store bag. "This is what I'm interested in."

"Oh, that's a bag I'm taking for a friend's mother."

"Just as I suspected! A roast duck! We have machines that help us detect meat products. What with all the Avian flu going around, this is definitely not allowed inside US borders. That's a $250 fine. I'm gonna need to see your passport."

"But I..." stammering and slack-jawed, I watched him continue searching.

"You shouldn't carry things for people. They often hide drugs. You don't wanna be somebody's drug mule, do you?"

"No, I don't think my friend would--"

"--Sir, this person is not your friend."

I handed over my passport and he entered the contraband and my name into the computer.

"Since this is your first offense, I'm gonna let you off this time, but no more fake shoes or pirated DVDs."

We stuffed things back into my poor little bag and taped it up with Department of Homeland Security tape. Behind us, minions were opening vacuum-sealed packets of Indian curries and dumping them into a large trash can. I felt defeated, but not yet depleted.

My Shoelaces' Next Enemy: High Gas Prices or China?

While I found $120 Sacramento to Detroit tickets three weeks earlier in Shanghai, that was before Katrina. Plus, I had thought I'd be able to get even better deals by snagging up last minute seats like I'd done from DC to Detroit in February on Northwest (for $50US). No suck luck. Tickets were $300US.

To consolidate bags, I bought a huge army duffel and stuffed my backpack, clothes, and everything else but the guqin inside. Buying it at the army surplus store was a story in itself.

When paying for the bag, I discovered a new nickel and asked when they started making them. The goon behind the counter didn't know and wondered why I didn't. My best friend Jon answered, "because he's been in China for the last year."

"Chiner, eh? Did you get any strategic information?"

"Um, no, I wasn't really in a military area. Why?"

"That's too bad. China's gonna be the next big enemy."

"I hope that we can maintain our cooperative attitudes."

"No can do. There's too many people and too few resources. And when there aren't enough resources, there's strife. We gotta get them before they get us. I just wanna be on the top of the food chain."

I backed away with the bag. The next morning I was checking in.

So I had this huge duffel stuffed with everything but the guqin. The woman behind the counter said, ok, you're gonna have to take out ten pounds. There went the yoga mat and the shit I was carrying for my "friend."

"Sir, you're still 100 pounds, so you're going to have to pay an overweight charge."

It was no use arguing that the guqin was only ten pounds, which meant I was only ten pounds over the overweight limit if I had had my possessions evenly distributed in two bags.

"80 dollars. How you gonna pay for this?"

"With my teeth," I said, almost collapsing.

"Are your teeth gold? No, well, then you'll have to pay with cash or credit."

"Cash."

So now I'm in Chicago, depleted, but alive, planning to travel overland from now on. With the $200 shipping charges I paid to mail books plus the $200 in overweight charges, that means I paid about $200US in moving charges for each year I spent in Asia. This tells me I still have a bit of work to do before achieving an attachment-free existence. And that I buy a lot of books. And that I probably won't be going to Washington DC next weekend.

And it makes me think that fat people should pay overweight charges. It's not fair that a 140 pound creature like me pays more than 300 pounders.