Not until you travel do you deal with Customs officials in other countries.  Sometimes they are friendly and accommodating, sometimes they give you an icy stare, stamp your passport and send you on your way.  

And don’t step beyond the yellow line until it’s your turn, otherwise you might end up in custody God knows where.

Our Bahamas experience, coming in on a private plane, was interesting to say the least.  We checked in at the airport and got Ziggy’s permit approved (plant and animal imports are through the Department of Agriculture:).  No one asked to look on the plane.

We were treated formally but in a nice way, and we were told we had to go to the other Customs office at the government dock to get our cruising permit.

So next day we got a rental car and rode over there.  

Oh, one other issue.  The Customs people had confiscated our shotgun and shells last November at the boatyard – apparently we didn’t know we couldn’t leave it on the boat.  So we planned to ask for the gun back too.

After a short wait we were told we need to talk to the Customs Superintendant. Walking into his office we greeted him and sat down.

No response.  The big Bajamian was studying our papers and not looking up.

“Morning” we said again.  

Finally he looked up. “Where’s the gun?”  He eyed me then Ed with a suspicious slant to his head.

We both answered “We thought you took it?  We were told that Customs or the police have it.”  

“Oh?  Let me call the boatyard.”  He picked up the phone and asked for Loretta, who works at the boatyard and, we found out later they had known each other since she was a little girl.

“These people on Toucan say we took their gun.  Is that right?  He also said you took money off the boat.”

We heard some loud response on the phone and Mr Dawkins started chuckling.

“I like to tease her,” he said.  “Could you identify it if we have it?”

Ed said yes and Mr. Dawkins led him to a side storage closet.

Not only was Ed’s gun there, an arsenal of weapons filled the small space.

If the Customs office was ever attacked by terrorists, my money would be on them to shoot their way out of it.

Ed started to take his gun and ammo but big Mr. Dawkins stopped him.

“No no, you can’t carry that out of here.  I will have to send someone with it to your boat.”

So we left with no gun but the hope that we might eventually get it.

I called for Mr. Dawkins the next day, after three attempts I reached him and told him who I was. 

“Oh yes we can bring it to you, ” he said.  “It works good, I shot someone with it yesterday.”

Thick Bahamian accent but I got the joke.” Oh no I hope he survived,” I said.  

“Yes, just flesh wound,” he added.

I like Mr. Dawkins.  We got the gun that afternoon.

Contrast this experience with the one Matt got when he flew the plane back to the States yesterday.

He arrived at Fort Pierce, which is a good place for private planes since there is no commercial traffic there.

He arrived at 9:55.  They open at 10 am and made him go back and wait on the plane for 5 minutes.  He also had to park in the red box directly in front of Customs or he would be fined.

He found out by arriving before they opened he could have been fined $5,000. 

Now that’s a wonderful welcome home after flying solo over the ocean.

Ed and I had warned him about their attitude – we encountered that when we flew back from the islands a few years ago. They gave us some lip about where to park the plane.

And they took my orange.  Jerks.

The Americans could learn some manners, not to mention a sense of humor, from the Bahamians.

Yo mon.