Customs in Singapore

When I arrived in Singapore the first thing I did was to choose a line to stand in while I waited to go through customs. I picked what looked like a small line behind a group of about 8 short, well dressed young men. I was at least a head taller than most of them. Their bright pastel colored button up shirts contrasted pleasantly with their dark skin. They looked like they were getting back from an insurance salesman convention and had coordinated their outfits for the trip. I immediately thought of what Scout would have said were she with me... "Hello tiny men. Why are you so tiny?"

After 5 minutes with the customs officer the first man was sent back. I watched him pass his friends whispering what had happened, the looks of worry reflected in all their faces, and join a line of about 20 short insurance salesmen waiting to enter an unmarked door. They were being watched over and yelled at ("Form 1 line! Stay in line!") by two taller, fairer men in uniforms standing on a platform so that they towered over the men in line.

I quickly realized that as far as quickly moving lines go, I had chosen poorly. Each of the men took at least 5 minutes and I watched as people with US, European, Japanese and Singapore passports flew through the lines next to me. After about 3 of the men had been sent back to the mysterious angry line, one was finally let through. He looked back at his friends and lifted a piece of paper, showing it to them surreptitiously. They all began to frantically dig through their backpacks and satchels to find the magical paper that would let them through. After that only one was sent back to the line that had now reached the end of the room and was wrapping back on itself.

It turns out this was a group of Malaysians and unfortunately Singapore is as suspicious of its neighbors as we are of ours. In their political landscape I'm sure it all makes sense just as we've convinced ourselves that how we treat Mexicans makes sense. It's definitely made me reconsider some things though.

When I got to the customs officer I handed him my passport and disembarkment form. He stamped it, scanned it and I was on my way. Having a United States passport was like having the golden ticket. No questions asked, no strip searching or strange lines to stand in at the back of the hall. I was all ready to explain why I was in Singapore, declare my leftover granola bars or demand to see the consul but I didn't have to say a word. I'm glad to be an American and have the opportunity to travel. I hope I live to see the day that everyone has the same rights.