“Back in the late nineties, I smuggled a sunglasses case full of weed through the airport with the help of a TSA bag checker.”

I brought weed over the U.S. border once — by accident. I was a 23 — year — old Canadian, in college, playing in a punk band, and working at a restaurant. I was a mean waitress, but all the old patrons who took up space at the bar found my attitude charming. They all liked me. The only one I actually liked back was Robert.

Robert was the perfect customer: low maintenance, fun to talk to, kind without being creepy, and, best of all, he’d always throw me some weed. One night, after a long shift of serving calamari to rent — a — cops and yuppie couples, I sat down to drink a beer with Robert before walking home. He pulled out a fat joint from his Carhartt jacket and I put it in my pocket.

“You rule, Robert,” I said. “I’ll smoke this when I’m packing tonight.” I was leaving the next morning to go to Portland with my band to play with Pierced Arrows.

The next day, I missed my alarm clock and woke to vicious honking outside my apartment window. I whipped on my jean jacket, grabbed my bag, and bolted. We were an all — girl outfit traveling in a Crown Vic, and when we hit the border we did our usual routine: “We’re just going shopping, officer,” and we were sent on our way. By the time we stopped for pizza in that dump town people call Olympia, I’d discovered the weed in my pocket.

This was nearly a decade ago, long before dispensaries and gourmet edibles. Had I been caught, I would have been banned from the U.S. for years.

I would never intentionally smuggle weed over the border. It’s stupid, even if you are about to bank a few million on the risk. I’ve been through enough drug stops in my life to know that cannabis is the most detectable substance, yet it’s the easiest to buy in any city in most of the world. What’s the point of risking jail for that?

I follow the TSA’s Instagram and you should, too. They post all the throwing stars, dynamite, and guns they confiscate from carry — on bags. I remember one post in particular where a man had taped a bag of pot to his knife and hidden it in his carry — on. This would be classified as retarded at best. The TSA captioned the image with something to the effect of, “We aren’t looking for drugs, but come on.” You know who is looking for drugs? International border security and those men in Texas with the big — boy guns. So, how do you get away with it? I asked some brave, stupid idiots just how their capers panned out.

“I have filled non — lubricated condoms with weed and put them in my vagina to smuggle pot into half a dozen countries. Never got caught.”
— Mandy S., Brooklyn, New York

“I dated a guy in college who used to move pounds of weed through FedEx and USPS. On multiple occasions I would ship some of these packages for him, and receive manilla envelopes full of thousands of dollars. My college years were not filled with Ramen dinners. In fact, they were probably more lavish than my current life. Unfortunately, when he and his partners decided to expand the business, it came to an end when a truck full of weed bound for some town in Texas to do a deal with the Mexican mafia never quite made it.”
— Ashley D., Santa Cruz, California

“I put unopened oil cartridges in my makeup bag in my checked luggage. Then I put my small vape battery in the pen holster inside my carry — on. When I landed, I hooked them up while waiting for my ride to arrive and had weed oil for the trip. Easy.”
— Phoenix Askani, Los Angeles, California

“My brother used to take tons of weed everywhere. He bought a vacuum sealer and used to unscrew the top of a Degree deodorant and put it underneath, then pack it in his checked luggage. He did this on the regular. When he didn’t have deodorant, he used a shampoo bottle.”
— Jaclyn L., Berkeley, California

“I used to take weed in my guitar pedal when I was overconfident and too young to care. I’d wrap it in a bit of coffee and unscrew the bottom of the pedal, then I’d stuff my weed in there and load it in with the regular luggage. I got through customs in Brazil twice.”
— Jonathan J. R., Coquitlam, British Columbia

“Back in the late nineties, I smuggled a sunglasses case full of weed through the airport in Detroit with the help of a TSA bag checker. The pot was in one of those cloth bags. I was boarding a flight back to Denver. She took it out and started feeling it through the bag. Of course I panicked and whispered that my parents were right behind me — they were — and told her that it was just loose tea. She smiled at me and let me go. To this day, I can’t believe she risked her job doing that.”
— Martine D., Boulder, Colorado

“My friend and I were going on our first overseas press trip for a relatively well — known media company. After we checked our bags and ourselves in for the flight, my friend asks if I’d like to smoke a joint before we get on the plane. Sure, why not, I think. I love weed; I hate flying. This is perfect. We cruise down to the multistory carpark, find a spot, and smoke up. I turn to my friend: “Man… we’ve gotta find some weed when we get to Europe.” He replies: “Dude, it’s all good. I’ve got half an ounce with me.” At this point I do what any right — minded individual would and ask him, between tokes, if he’s (a) joking or (b) out of his mind. “It’s fine,” he says. “I’ve already checked the weed. It’s in the bag we just handed over.” The ambience of serenity that’s circulating around my mind immediately turns into high — grade paranoia. Have you ever been through airport security with burning hot red — eye? That shit is scary, but it’s ten times worse when your friend has already checked in half an ounce of weed. At the security gate, a guard pulls me to the side. I freak out. It turns out he’s getting me to form a new line. Good. Breathe. The airport had just installed those full — body scanners which, in his dumb and high state, interests my friend so much he asks a guard if he can have a go in one. We arrive at our destination, the bag comes out, no one pulls us aside, and we spend the next four days getting stoned to the heavens. I would be lying if I said what preceded our arrival wasn’t one of the worst experiences of my life, though. Smuggle your own weed? Sure. Smuggle weed… with someone else, without telling them, and get them high beforehand? No thanks.”
— James L., London, England

“My grandmother and my great aunt went to a music festival in Felton, California, and met up with my second cousin. He told my grandmother about the dispensary he goes to and about vape pens. She really wanted to get some for my sister and me. Her plan was to sneak them back on the plane for us. She put the little black vapes in with her makeup brushes. She had a whole plan in case she got caught: “I’ll say I didn’t do it!” She was going to use the old — woman card and play dumb. “What are those? What do you mean marijuana!? No! Did someone pull a joke on me?” She had it all figured out. She was so excited she had butterflies all through the airport. She got away with it and we got the excellent California vapes.”
— Anna W., Brooklyn, New York

PHOTO: SHUTTERSTOCK / GYN9037