I take medication to prevent migraines. When I discovered how strict Singapore was on importing medications, I panicked a bit and applied for a licence, even though what I take isn’t listed on the big list of medicines that need a licence. Better safe than sorry when it comes to the death penalty, right?
The Singaporean authorities said it was fine as long as I didn’t take more than three months’ supply. Phew. I printed off the correspondence so I’d have some sort of proof my tablets were ok.
While in Singapore, I bought a metal pillbox. Back at the hotel, I put some tablets in it.
When I went through security at the airport, I got the pill box and other metal objects put and put them in my pockets ready to put on the tray. Of course, I forgot, so I set the scanner off.
The security lady told me to empty my pockets then searched me. She picked up the pillbox. “Open that.”
She’d see the tablets and think I was trafficking drugs. Then she’d search my luggage and find the rest of the tablets (less than three months’ worth), and then I’d have to get the British Embassy involved and it would all turn into some sort of Singapore Hilton. Would she accept my crumpled print-outs as evidence it was all ok? Where had I put them? I opened the pillbox and showed her what was in it.
She glanced in and nodded.
I closed it.
She let me through.
I took a deep breath to calm my heart and gathered up my belongings.