A Different Interrogation

Landing in Dublin we are feeling a little shite, covered in shite, deep fried in more shite and then stuffed with shite. The upthrust: the 787MAX8 is shite.

I know this well as the flight attendants have played video games on the back of my seat for several hours. But we land none the same and after thinking about and preparing for the Customs and Immigration we are ready for their questions. A small bonus, the plane will empty from both ends and since we are flying “‘rewards” points we are at the far end and get to exit early.

Into the airport of a foreign land we wander looking for the Baggage and Customs. We are Canadian. We are braced for what comes in Customs; a questioning practice started by the Nazis and continued by the supremacy movement in the US. As we exit there is a sign that points to Customs and Exits and we start the march to the exit. Will our brothers from the same mother let us in?  Is there something we forgot? I think, got the prescriptions in the bottles, no large amount of money, no drugs I must declare.

I think on this as we march from where we land to Custom and Exit. Legs barely working from the wonderful Air Canada flight on the 737 MAX HATE. As we continue I curse more though silently, this was my plan and at this point I hate it, thanks to our number one airline. After what seems like a forced march for the entrants into the Airborne we reach the Customs agents.  The questions;

  • Why are you here?
  • How long are you staying?
  • Isn’t that 737 Max 800 just shite?
  • Why haven’t you visited before?

The last with the most force, a wonderful example of the people we will meet. After assuring the young lady will we be spending some time in Dublin we are left to look for an exit and our bags. The bags are easily located, Air Canada being deprived the ability to lose them by being a direct flight. And for Customs, the first lady being only the Immigrations. We find the doors to custom guarded by a couple of lads that should be playing rugby. There are two sets of doors, one blue and one green – inquiring as Dave is a smoker with more than 200 smokes as to the path –  we are sent through the green doors. Where we  merge with the folks through the blue doors. Why?

I can only hope that it is for the sheer fun of it, I am hoping the Irish are a fun and wonderful bunch and if this is an indication I won’t be disappointed.