I flew to Toronto this morning for a stand-up gig. It’s my fourth trip to Canada in the last two years. On my three previous trips, I was stopped at Customs and forced to open my suitcase so the rubber-gloved security guys could rifle through my undergarments. I don’t know why I was consistently chosen; obviously, something about me tipped off the border guards that I was suspicious.
So today, I wore a yarmulke. When the plane landed, I took off my Yankee cap and clipped on a black suede yarmulke. I figured the Customs people wouldn’t stop a guy in a yarmulke because if they did, it might look like they were singling me out because of my religion, and I could then sue them for discrimination and they’d find themselves embroiled in a scandal.
I don’t know if it was the yarmulke that did it. But this morning, Customs was a breeze.
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