Getting through airport security can be frustrating, but it's all about attitude, especially when body lotion and automatic weapons are involved, as I recently experienced.
Here's what happened: I was invited to a conference in Warsaw, Poland. The organisers covered all my costs so the least I could do was offer a token of appreciation, something quintessentially South African.
A selection of rooibos-based products seemed ideal, so a colleague who consults to the Rooibos Council sourced some.
While scurrying about getting visas and whatnot, I assumed, fleetingly, that they met the guidelines on contraband. They weren't incendiaries, acids, corrosives, magnetic, radioactive, infectious, Steve Hofmeyr CDs or any of the other stuff your airline booking warns against.
I packed it all up - a selection of teas and cosmetics - and scampered off for my Cape Town-Joburg-Frankfurt-Warsaw flights.
I got to the security gate and put my bag through the scanner. An official barked, "Is this your bag?"
"Er, which one?" There were several, like pretty maids all in a row.
A proper snarl now: "Is THIS your bag?" and he pointed at mine. I said that indeed it was.
"What's in it?"
I started opening it to show him. He grabbed it back. "I didn't ask you to open it. I asked you what was in it." Then he opened it anyway. He rooted through it and took out two bottles of rooibos-based lotion.
I'd put them in transparent packets but, fair cop, they were too big and I got a proper, vein-bulging dressing-down while other travellers looked on impatiently.
I've no idea what happens to all the stuff confiscated at airports. I hope it goes to a good home - in this case, a fragrantly moisturised one - or to charity, rather than a landfill.
Duly chastened, I repacked the remaining 20 or so rooibos products and boarded my flight. The next morning, I landed in Frankfurt.
It's big and busy and I didn't want to miss my onward flight. Security there is very thorough but when my bag got pulled out of the procession for the second time in 11 hours, I wondered if I was in the middle of a Leon Schuster jape.
The security officer asked very politely if he could open my bag.
"Go ahead," I said, hoping the rooibos leaves wouldn't be mistaken for the Wild Coast's main crop. He pulled on some gloves and ran a scanner over everything, and then very respectfully asked me to wait.
Two uniformed security officers arrived, with flak vests and side-arms, and one with an automatic rifle.
They were calmly civil to the point of deference but very alert and it was utterly clear that I wasn't going anywhere until they allowed it.
It turned out that they'd picked up traces of explosives on my bag. Apparently, that's not unusual for airline luggage.
I was soon on my way and after a 10-minute jog to Gate A65, made it onto my connecting flight, sweaty and bemused.
The surviving rooibos samples were handed out to my delighted hosts.
Later, I compared the two experiences: the first, a spittle-flecked bollocking over a slightly big bottle of moisturiser. The second experience potentially involved a serious threat to travellers - explosives - and was handled without an ounce of eye-bulging, Rambo-style posturing.
Perhaps we need to get the German airport-security personnel to come and offer lessons on how to be thorough and firm without being threatening.
We could offer them rooibos-infused therapy sessions in return.
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