Cuban Blog Day #25 Coming Home With Rum

After a long 4:30 am bus ride to the airport from my hostel, I found myself in the duty free store of the Cancun International Airport.  I asked a store clerk one last time if it was legal to take Havana Club Rum back, this time trying to find some reassurance that what I was about to do was indeed legal and would actually work. I was told, for the third time now, that it would be no problem to take up to two bottles of Havana Club back to The United States of America. I wanted to believe them so badly.

So, I selected two beautiful bottles of seven-year Havana Club and made my purchase using up all of my Mexican pesos and having to use only $1.47 of American money. I was quite proud of this, especially after returning from Cuba with about $30 US worth of CUC I will probably never be able to use.

The bottles were in a stapled duty free shopping bag that I would carry onto the plane with me. I was glad to have them with me and not in a checked bag somewhere, but I was worried what would happen once I got to the Houston airport and had to go through customs. 

During my entire time in Cuba I was worried about returning to the US and getting found out.  You see, it is technically not illegal to travel to Cuba. Thank god! However, it is illegal to spend money there; a bit of a catch 22.  So, while I took all the necessary precautious and made sure my passport was never stamped, (I had assumed that customs officials knew not to do this upon seeing an America passport, but had I not asked them every time not to stamp it, I would have had quite a few Cuban stamps in my passport,) I knew that returning with a bunch of bottles of Havana Club and 30 some Cuban cigars was surely going to put them on the case.

I took solace in the fact that I bought all but one bottle of rum in Cancun.  Even though the bottles have a sticker that clearly reads “Product of Cuba” on the front, I reasoned that the fact that I’d purchased them in Cancun and not Cuba meant I hadn’t technically spent money there.  I also rationalized that all sorts of Americans travel to Mexico and try to bring back Havana Club not even realizing that it wasn’t Mexican.  Right?

Of course, then I had the cigars to worry about. I couldn’t find any way to rationalize those away. As I sat in the concourse waiting area, I thought about the cigars and the other bottle of rum I’d bought in Cuba hiding within my checked bag.  They would surly be the reason I would be carted off to jail upon my arrival in The United States. What had I done?

The flight to the Houston Airport was filled with wild imaginings of security guards waiting for me as soon as I exited the plane. I saw them handcuff me and immediately take my precious bottles of Havana Club.  I envisioned my life in jail, only memories of Cuba to keep me company. 

When we finally landed, I took a deep breathe and exited the plane with everyone else.  We all filed through the corridors making our way to customs.  I was a bit in between groups and therefore arrived to where the line would be more or less alone.  I was dumbfounded- first, at the lack of the horrible zigzagging line I’d come to expect. It was my first entry into any country where there wasn’t any sort of line. Next, it was impossible not to notice the absence of custom workers. What was going on?  Instead, I saw row upon row of machines. 

I walked up to one of the machines and followed the directions written on it. I slide my passport, credit card like, through the machine. I looked up into the tiny camera and smiled. That was it. The shopping bag full of my bottles of rum was firmly in my hand as I walked toward the exit where there was just one worker at the desk. I stopped there. He asked if my paper had a star on it. I looked, said no. He said that was all then and waved me on.

I continued on in disbelief. Could it really have been that easy? I walked passed another exit with another man at a desk. This was it, I told myself. He’s going to check my duty free shopping bag, and I’m done.  He checked it and gave me hell about having two bottles and not the one he said was the limit. I hurriedly explained that the duty free shop employee had most certainly assured me that two was the limit. The guy smiled at me, advised me that next time the limit is only one (when did this change?) and told me to carry on.

Oh my god!  I was in The United States of America with two bottles of Cuban rum! I had done it! But, there was one more test. I still had to get my bags and go through security. Upon retrieving my checked bag and checking on the other bottle of rum and cigars packed within, I arranged the bottles inside for them to continue on to Denver. I hurriedly packed them in as best I could and waited through the security line. There was nothing more I could do now.

The flight from Houston to Denver was calmer. I was already in The US and was not as worried about the fines and the jail time anymore. I was, however, worried that the bottles make break or be confiscated upon their arrival in Denver. 

When I arrived and finally got my bag, I immediately checked inside.  Much to my surprise, there was a piece of paper on top of all my clothes informing me that my bag had been checked by TSA. I quickly searched through my bag to check for all the bottles and cigars.  Everything was just where I’d left it.

 Really TSA? What exactly were you searching for and how exactly didn’t you find it? 

Traveling Tip #26 They’re not looking for rum

Aside from getting the rum back and finding the TSA notice in my bag, there are a few other adventures in smuggling that help me confirm what I’m about to advise, but take this advice at your own risk. I am fairly certain that TSA is NOT looking for rum, or cigars are any other paraphernalia you might try to bring across a border.  And, if that is what they are looking for, all I can say is, they’re doing a terrible job training their agents. I’m fairly certain they are looking for more important things such as bombs and weapons. You know, the things that actually matter and would help keep us safe if found.  For this I am grateful.  So go ahead… bring me back a bottle of Havana Club next time you’re in Cuba.