A Cautionary Tale:

Never in my life did I think I would be labeled a smuggler, a bootlegger, a runner.

But there I was, standing in the US Customs Office of the Ottawa, Canada airport, being accused of smuggling illegal goods into the United States.

“Did you know that this offense carries a $250,000 fine?” a surly Customs agent asked.

“No,” I meekly replied.

“And up to 10 years in jail?”

“Um, what? NO!”

“I’m going to need you to come with me.”

And just like that I was detained by Customs and escorted to their Search and Seizure Office. 

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But it wasn’t just me, it was also my parents – probably two of the most honest adults on the planet.

What had I gotten them into? I could feel my heart pulsing in my chest and my palms turn clammy. Guilt rose in my throat and I tried not to speak for fear that my disappointment in myself would manifest into tears.

We were already late for our flight to California to visit my hospitalized and ever-ailing Grandmother, and now, because of me, we were being interrogated by Customs.

Guess who’s not getting the Best Daughter Award this year?

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How did we get into this mess in the first place? It all started with a suggestion from several friends weeks earlier…

“You’ve never been to Canada before? You have to try Havana Club rum! It’s the best rum on the planet!,” a blonde in politics raved.

“I bring a bottle back with me every time I visit Canada. It’s the best rum,” a male traveler mused.

“You’ve just got to try some – Havana Club in a perfect mojito!” a mixologist suggested.

All good, law-abiding people.

So I knew I had to check out this mythical Havana Club – a product of Cuba, considered by many to be the best rum in the world.

While in Ottawa, my folks and I went to a liquor store and there it was, row after row of Havana Club; 7 año, Especial, Maestro, 15 año, Blanco, Reserva, Maximo.

By this point I’d talked up the rum so much that my parents decided to grab a few bottles for their personal collection as well.

I picked up a Blanco and Especial – two bottles that set me back just under $90USD. But, for the best rum in the world, I thought it was a steal…

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Fast forward to the interrogation by three Customs agents:

“Do you have any relations in Cuba?” No.

“Are you coming from Cuba?” No.

“Have you ever traveled to Cuba?” No.

“Are you engaged in business in Cuba?” No.

And on and on.

“Is there anything else illegal you would like to tell us about now before we find it?”

My mother retorted, “If we had anything else, do you think we would have told you about the rum?”

And the woman had a point. God love her for such a snarky remark delivered in the most innocent, sweet-sounding voice from a petite, blonde, mother of three. How can you possibly get mad at that?

One by one, the agents inspected each piece of luggage and located our glorious bottles of rum.

One officer (clearly disarmed by my mother’s charm) picked up a bottle to examine it, “I’ve never actually seen this in person before, only in pictures.” He seemed genuinely delighted.

Again, my mother chimmed in, “Do you want one?” before realizing that that could be misconstrued as a bribe. How can you not love her?

And just when I thought we were all becoming friends, the officer inspecting my bag (clearly the youngest) uncovered a Ziploc bag full of white powder.

An ever so slight grin seeped across his face as he waved the bag in the air – jackpot!

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I almost felt bad for disappointing the rookie, but as a vegan I travel with my own non-dairy, powdered, coffee creamer – not blow.

During the inspection, my father asked permission to use his phone to book us on the next flight, knowing that our plane had already left without us.

After finding all the bottles, we were to be escorted out of the airport to dispose of them.

“Can’t we just flush the liquid down the toilet instead?” my father asked.

After a pause, the agents deemed that a reasonable request and my dad and I were escorted to the bathroom. We emptied all the bottles into the toilet under a watchful eye.

Now pouring that much rum into a toilet was not only heartbreaking, but it also produced a wall of alcohol fumes that I’m pretty sure left us all with a contact high.

It was with a heavy heart that I flushed the toilet, without getting to try even a drop.

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After all was said and done, the officers found no additional contraband (sorry rookie) and really, they all were rather pleasant throughout the ordeal, realizing that we truly were ignorant to the offense.

They let us on our way with a stern warning and a chuckle. I honestly think we made their day.

For us, we lost $200 worth of rum and had to buy new plane tickets, on a later flight, to an alternative destination that required more driving on the other end.

Luckily for me, blood is thicker than alcohol.

* My Mistake: I thought that purchasing Cuban goods, for personal consumption, in a country where they are legal, and bringing them to the US was, well, legal.  Apparently, as an American citizen, it is not.

I knew I couldn’t buy, sell or trade Cuban good within the US, but I wasn’t going to do any of those things. Lesson of the day – it’s still illegal to bring any Cuban goods into the US, regardless of where you buy them or what you plan to do with them.

In fact, even purchasing the goods abroad is technically illegal.

So take note travelers, lest you be detained by Customs as well.