I had this girl on my TruthSlap TV last week and her story is crazy check it out from her own words

I left South Africa with a carry-on bag with all of my souvenirs and a back pack. Everything was fine. I get to Heathrow (London) and go through their security to get into terminal 5 where my flight to Philadelphia is from. My souvenir bag gets pulled aside to be checked. There are two people ahead of me and it takes FORTY-FIVE MINUTES to get to my bag. Finally they do and the woman unpacks, unwraps, and opens EVERYTHING in my bag. There is newspaper and duct tape everywhere. At the bottom is a corkscrew I bought a month ago and forgot about. She holds up the offending item and laughs like “AH HA! WE’VE CAUGHT YOU SMUGGLING THIS ON THE AIRCRAFT!” Honestly, with as long as it took her to find it I wouldn’t have been able to get the fucking thing out of the bag before I landed in Philly. Then I have to RE-PACK this entire mess, with two VERY impatient men behind me. Anyway, fine, I get escorted downstairs (by a woman who might have weighed 100lbs soaking wet- because that makes sense) and I check in my souvenir bag, with the corkscrew/shank in it. This process from start to finish takes roughly 2 hours, I have about 40 mins til boarding for my flight, so I decide to get a beer. My nerves are jingle-jangling from all that bullshit and I don’t do well with flying to begin with. So I get a beer. I haven’t eaten in like 9 hours, and I took an Oxycodone before my previous flight. The beer hits me and perhaps wakes up some of that oxy. So with 10 mins left til my flight I head to my gate, buzzed.

At this point they are doing “random” checks before boarding. Basically anyone who looks to be under 25 or a freak gets pulled aside. So it’s me, two 19(ish) year old boys, and a man (woman?) with purple streaked hair. So they go through my back pack and the lady pulls out my mace. And I say, “oh shoot I forgot about that, you can just throw it away.” Because that’s what airlines do, trash everything that is remotely dangerous– like water and hand sanitizer and mace, right? She says, “No, it doesn’t work that way, mace is illegal in the UK.” And I’m all, “ILLEGAL?!” And she says, “Yes, we have to call the police.” Her supervisor comes over, I’m moved to the side, they call the cops, I’m told “You won’t be getting on this plane.” Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m buzzed (high?) and have mace- which is illegal. So the cops show up, ask why I have it and then inform me that I’m under arrest for being in possession of a hazardous weapon. You see, in London, not even the police are armed. Mace, guns, knives, shanks, etc are ILLEGAL across the board. Essentially I could have brought a gun with me and we’d be having the same talk. It is a weapons charge that carries a 5 year prison sentence if convicted. So, 6 ARMED officers (only special forces are armed in the UK, clearly I’m public enemy #1 at this point) escort me out of the airport– not cuffed luckily. I get put into the back of a police truck. Basically I’m in a cage with a seat. We get to the station and I get searched by a female officer and pee in a jail cell. Then I’m finger printed (I didn’t wash my hands– take that copper!), have my mug-shot taken, have a taped interview done and am finally given a warning by the superintendent of police… who they call the governor or something. I wanted to say “GOOD DAY GOV’NA!” but thought against it. And ya know, strangely enough, when I was sitting there, in a London prison, I actually thought to myself, ‘somehow, this isn’t weird to me at ALL.’ I mean, I didn’t think that it was out of the ordinary at all, in fact I thought it made sense somehow. Made sense for my life anyway.

So I’m taken back to the airport by this HUGE cop. I’m talking 6’5″ linebacker. He’s armed. Very unusual in London remember. He takes me to re-book my flight. We wait at the counter for 30-40 mins because the system is down (naturally). Then the woman tells us that because I was booked through Travelocity and was using a special deal (something with my Grant), I have to call Travelocity and have them re-book me. That, I knew, would take a small act of congress to get done within 24 hours. My huge cop friend (fellow rugger) asks for her supervisor. He takes the supervisor aside and the next thing I know I’m booked on the next flight at 5pm to Philly. Score. Then we have to go through security, again. My bag gets pulled aside- I’m still with huge-cop. There is water in it that I bought to take onto the plane the last time, pre-arrest. But they can’t just take out the water and call it a day. They unpack the whole bag. Loose tampons everywhere, sand, sea shells, books, completed Rubik’s cube (they were impressed with that at least). Finally I’m cleared to go and I tell the cop if someone wants to see my bag one more time I’m throwing the ENTIRE FUCKING THING AWAY. He laughs and agrees, says that I must lead an odd life to be taking this so well. I don’t know what to say to that so I laugh. Then we have to go to Immigration because now that I’ve been to the police station I have entered the city with a hazardous weapon. Great. They want to detain me. Huge-cop does something again with the supervisor and I’m told I’m free to go. I get some special stamp in my passport that says I was just passing through London. They don’t put the bad stamp that marks me as a fugitive– I’m told that I’m “lucky”. That wouldn’t be in the top 5 words I’d use for me right now, but I say “oh yes, definitely!” Then I say good-bye to huge-cop, go up through security AGAIN (no problems this time) and run to my plane. I get there as it’s boarding, I get on, put on the eye cover thing they provide, and don’t move for the next 8 hours. As we land I think to myself– DID THAT REALLY REALLY HAPPEN? so I rummage for the paperwork. It’s there. It happened. Wild.