Pt 5: Customs can go fuck itself.

Seriously. Five separate interviews-most occurring while I'm standing waiting for my luggage. One actually happened as I turned away from another. Not to mention the personal and invasive questions that happened while standing amongst the other passengers. Thanks assholes.

And no, I didn't bring any business cards with me, I was in a foreign fucking country and not aware I'd have to prove I was a production assistant.

My revenge came courtesy of the gas inducing food they served on the flight. After the third invasive interview I carpet bombed the place.