Question Authority

     I remember wearing a "Question Authority" pin in high school. The principal hated me from the moment he laid eyes on me; that pin just solidified his sense of loathing.

     The feeling was mutual.

     I questioned authority tonight, albeit as mildly as one can while still arguing a point. It was U.S. Customs again, and I made it through with a warning. They again mentioned a dollar limit, the same one I was told about last time, but different from the one mentioned to Charles last night. 

     "Were you just through here last week with one of these?"

     "Yes."

     "Well, the limit is $2,000.00."

     "But I'm in transit; it's not for U.S. consumption."

     "Look. It doesn't matter if you're here 5 minutes or 5 years."

     "Hmm. I've talked with 3 Customs brokers in the last week, and I get conflicting interpretations."

     "Well, there's nothing complicated about it; it's $2,000.00."

     A long pause while Barney Fife typed.

     "That was a long flight! I feel like I've just been unfolded, like a piece of paper."

     "I'll let you go this time, but I've made a note that I explained the limits to you."

     "Thanks."

     A Saturday night lecture on "limits". I'm sure that goes on my permanent record. 

     "Take it to the limit", indeed.

     So I'm at the Mexicana terminal at LAX, or as El Diablo de Guadalajara christened it: "the crappiest terminal in the world." I just spoke to Walter in GDL; I may be headed back to TPE on Monday...

     So TAKE IT TO THE LIMIT, one more time...