Some deviant walked into the airport in Juarez, Mexico with a black suitcase in his hand, but instead of checking the bag, he carried it straight to one of the rooms in emigration set aside to search for contraband. Even before security caught up with him he was unzipping the case.
“Here’s the….” The man, a gringo by look and the fact he spoke English, stared at the ordinary contents as if amazed. “Huh. It’s nothing but clothes.” He moved a few items around, then exclaimed, “They’re MY clothes!”