By the time my R&R arrived, I was feeling anything but “new”. I was tired in a way you can only get when living immersed in a culture wildly different from your own. The first thing to go was my patience. This burned out about 8 days after I should have been on R&R…guess whoever put together the 9-week policy new what they were doing!

The trip to the airport was quick and I arrived with plenty of time to spare…or so I thought. As we don’t have the proper pass, my driver had to let me off outside the airport. What I didn’t realize is that this adds three security checks to the clearance process.

I drug my suitcase thorough the deep gravel from checkpoint to checkpoint. Each guard switched on my computer and dug through the contents of my bags for possible contraband. Of course one of the first three searches was the obligatory pat-down by a female guard – who clearly doubles as mammographer on her days off.

Finding nothing I was waived on to the terminal. Rounding the wall topped with razor wire, I saw the Mazar airport terminal looming overhead and I mistakenly let out a sigh breath of relief. Then I spotted him.

I really couldn’t tell you what he looked like. But I can tell you that from 20 paces out I didn’t like him. Maybe it was the attitude he projected, or the just the look on his face, but whatever it was…he set my radar off! Unfortunately my initial assessment was confirmed as I watched him paw through the luggage of the man in line ahead of me.

To be clear, “paw” is an exceedingly polite way of describing how he went through the luggage – piece by piece, opening packages and even unwrapping mini chocolate bars (with his ungloved hands), breaking them in two and sniffing them before tossing them carelessly back into the bag. I suppose if the man ahead of me had been packing chocolate flavored C4, this would be a much different story, but the chocolates were just chocolates – gifts for his wife and daughter. ….then it was my turn.

He seemed to take a bit too much delight in pulling the contents of my bag out one by one. This was fine until he came to my “delicates”. When he unzipped my packing cube and started to go for my bra, I lost it. I was as rude as I possibly could have been and still get away with it. But seriously, what on earth could I really be hiding in my bra. Fortunately his supervisor came to observe and quickly waved him on before I caused too much of a scene.

It just seemed so out of character and invasive compared with the culture I’ve been absorbed in for the past three months. Men generally are respectful of women – at least outwardly. Have no idea where this bizarre lapse in manners came from, but I was glad his supervisor was there to curb it.

I was finally off to new adventures…