There were four of us trapped in travel purgatory between paradise and our lives back home on an American warship. Customs here was direct and and took their jobs very seriously. A few days before we had met an Danish expat who had been in country for a few years time and we befriended her as she agreed to show us around her acquired hometown of Nusajaya, Malaysia. We made her acquaintance in Singapore few days earlier at the officers club, on a JSOC base shared by the Brits, Aussies and the American Navies. We were all very much lubricated with fosters lager swimming in the pool telling stories from our previous port of call in Pattaya beach,Thailand warming up for another night out on the town. There she was, Dani a real looker at that, Originally from Denmark, she was the owner of a small textile export company that did most of her business in and around Southeast Asia. She was engaged in small talk with a few of the British officers at the bar and even the bartender whom she seemed to know well. She bummed cigarette from one of the junior officers and strolled over to a chaise lounge and slowly sat down and sprawled out under a lazy palm tree. She did this in such a way to gain the attention of all the sailors wading around the shallow end of the pool, and it worked. Dani, who wore a European cut one piece bathing suit, was covered from head to toe in body art, with different parts playing peekaboo from under the material that was her suit. She was a sight to see and she garnered the attention of everyone in the pool area and she totally knew it, come to find out that she was previously married to a British officer and still had access to the base and all its amenities. When she caught word that her ex was at sea, she'd come and play and take advantage of her social benefits. Now it was the ink that drew a few of us in our group closer as we were interested in getting some tattoos ourselves while we were in country the next two weeks for a refit. The work was very well done and full of detail, she said most of the work was done by an artist who went by the name of "Johnny two thumbs" who actually had two thumbs on one hand he used to hold the tattoo gun. His work was exquisite and in high demand. She told us that he had a shop set up in downtown Singapore which was very popular with the tourists and fetched a very high price to meet those demands. In addition to his local establishment, he had a location across the Johor Strait in Malaysia that was a fraction of the cost and the work was just as high quality. We collectively agreed that this was a place that we should check out as soon as possible and see about getting some good'ol Navy ink done. Agreeing to meet her the next day for breakfast at her favorite place "The Bubbly", and afterwards she would take us across the border into the Malay Peninsula for fun in a city that meets the Malaysian Jungle.
It was December and it was tropically hot at 10 o'clock in the morning in this part of the world, this time of year. The customs building was marked by a small well kept building that had a tall wrought iron fence abutted to either side and extended 30 meters or so on both sides. Our dedicated customs officers were neatly dressed in pressed uniforms proudly representing their country, and there were no shortage of representatives. Being one of the wealthiest countries in Asia, Singapore it seemed, didn't mind paying 20 plus officers to help man the border to protect the sovereignty of their island nation. Waiting our turn outside in the tropical winter heat, we could smell Mangos in the air from a nearby tree mixing with the dull smell of salt water from the isthmus that separated both nations only 10 meters away. Meeting with the customs agents went fairly smooth, and after some gentle persuasion they allowed us to exit with nothing more than our military identifications. All the while Dani was making small talk with agents whom she also knew well and didn't seem to show any proof of identity and made her way across the foot bridge ahead of us and down to the panga below tied up and waiting to take us across. When we arrived in Malaysia, security was was very relaxed as compared to the Singaporean side, a simple flash of an ID of sorts and we cleared customs with ease. Dani hailed a cab for us and off we went to the other side of the city, we passed Puteri Harbour where Dani owned a condo and drove though this bustling downtown metropolis to the opposite side of the city which held small shops, family held restaurants, and small hotels. Pulling over to the side of the road and exiting the cool comfort of this modern taxi, we were hit once again with tropical heat this time instead of mangos, the strong odor of sewage wafting from the runnels along the roadside was evermore present. Cultural overload was now taking over our senses walking down a narrow alleyway no bigger than a small car could manage, we followed Dani through this shortcut which would lead us into the center of the small city of Kampung Sungai. A city that is comprised of mainly agriculture and the fishing industry selling to restaurants and its residents. It was amazing to see, hear and smell all things fresh, everyone running about, deals being made by restaurateurs, children of vendors playing on the sidewalk, dogs begging for treats, and tailless cats laying in beams of sunlight between tables of fresh fish lining the street. Nearly unrecognizable signs peppered the cityscape and we were unable to determine the difference between a pharmacist or a dumpling shop, it was the perfect place for a renown tattooist to hide from tourists and practice his art in peace away from the hustle of Singapore. We arrived at the famed artists establishment, Dani asked us to wait outside while she checked to is see if it were ok that we come in. We looked around the courtyard, four gringos standing outside this building all but alone surrounded by unfamiliar smells and sights, by far the tallest people in the square, there was no blending. Locals walked by with so much as a glance and carried on with their day, children stared and giggled while old women cleaned fish and paid us no mind. It was perfect, so removed from the perils of being a US serviceman tied to our futures in uncle Sams Navy. Dani finally came to the door and waved us in. Inside the place was dank and not very well lit with exception of small lights next to the two chairs reserved for would be customers. The lone artist flashed a crooked smile and asked if he could help us, as we were all locked into the polaroid photos of past customers that masked the walls cracked and peeling paint job. Two of those in our vagabonding crew negotiated tats with the artist, which at this point we noticed "did not" have two thumbs on one hand, on this day he was in his flagship studio on the island, a mere substitute he was. I became immediately uninterested in marring my guns with subpar artwork. In and out of the shop over the next three hours while the guys got inked, I grabbed a few ice cold Tiger beers from the market at the corner in an effort to quell this winter heat, I distributed them. One of the guys spoke up after noticing that Dani had vanished a while ago and had not returned, which was fine for us seasoned travelers, we would be able to find our way back to the ferry terminal in time, no big rush. Few more cold ones made their way around as we chatted while the last sailor finished up his atrocity. All in we had a cliché' Kedge anchor adorned with the letters USN, and the other, a skull and cross bones dressed across his forearm, ok, to each their own. We grabbed one more round of beers from the market and jeered each other for their choice of tats as we walked back through the city and headed back to the main thoroughfare to catch a cab to the water front. By this time the day was beginning the wane yet the heat persisted, the air-conditioned cab felt so good that I didn't mind the fact that Ace of Base was being blasted through blown out speakers just over my shoulder on the rear deck of this early model Toyota.
Arriving at the terminal, we all caught a glimpse of Dani in exiting a private vehicle and going to the trunk which was already open as she and the driver began unpacking a few of the long boxes. We walked over and offered a hand "thank you, how did the tattoos go" she asked. One guy took his shirt off and showed his off we all had a good laugh, the other modestly rolled up his sleeve to show his. We each grabbed what ever boxes we could carry and made our way to the customs terminal. It was just then that the OIC (officer in charge) gave us funny looks and asked Dani what were in the boxes. She handed him a piece of paper that I can only assume were accompanying documents for the wares she was to transport across the border back to Singapore. Textile materials? Maps? rolls of paper? Not even close, we couldn't believe our eyes when the customs officer opened the first of several boxes. Fishing poles. Fishing poles? I gave Dani a look of confusion and shrugged my shoulders. Apparently recreational fishing is banned in Singapore and both fishing for sustenance and recreation is illegal punishable by fines and prison. All in Dani was attempting to smuggle 10 fishing poles back in country for one of her clients. We were guilty by default, and thoughts of detainment flashed in my mind. How were we going to get out of this? My dreams of becoming a Seal, dashed. Captains mast followed by a dishonorable discharge, most certainly. By this time the officers and Dani were in conversation and it appeared she was in a way pleading for some sort of deal, and after 10 minutes we were all sort of freaking out and plotting an escape, which was futile as this was the only point of crossing for twenty miles in either direction. Here comes the captain with officers in tow with an apparent deal. The customs deal was as follows: The office of customs would be confiscating each said parcel and collecting a fine of $200 Singapore dollars each which was the equivalent of $500US or we would be detained and the US consulate contacted (in due time) at which time we would be handed over to the US government or the US Navy. The obvious choice floated in the hot tropical air above all our heads, there was no contemplation, we scrambled to gather enough cash to secure our freedom, all of us but Skull and crossbones had enough to get back, collectively we had enough to cover his escape from Malaysia. Funny thing was, we never saw Dani pay her share of the fines, and by all accounts she's $400 richer after splitting the bounty with the customs officials. The remainder of the crossing went without incident, we checked back in to Singapore and headed right back to the O club and ordered a round of Fosters and breathed a sigh of relief at the bullet we had just dodged. I slapped Skull and cross bones on his fresh ink and told him the next rounds are on him, he understood. As for Dani, she was never to be heard from again.
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