I just finished reading Groucho Marx's autobiography, Groucho and Me. It is absolutely hilarious. I highly recommend it. Anyway, at one point Groucho describes how once when he was coming back from Europe he had to fill in a customs form and for the question "what is your occupation" he filled in "smuggler." Far be it for me to try to paraphrase the great Groucho, so in his own words this is what happened next:
Don't think it was a dull, inactive afternoon. Have you, dear reader, ever had the more remote portions of your anatomy subjected to nontherapeutic X rays? Have you ever stood by while they performed the same delicate operation on your luggage? Have you ever taken off your shoes and watched an expert carefully rip out their inner soles in a systematic search for hidden gems? All these experiences can easily be yours. Just go to Europe and, when you return, fill in your Customs Manifesto with the same unhesitating honesty that I did. This book was written in 1959. I don't even know if he was traveling by boat or plane. But when I read this I did a doubletake, in light of both how much airlines have been warning us not to joke at the airport about things like weapons and criminal activity, and also how much things have changed and yet remain the same. Especially the shoe part. I miss Groucho. The book is currently in print in paperback, but I got a 47-year-old copy from the library which was an experience in itself.
