BER x Security: A New Yorker Experience

There’s Germany, as in Deutschland. And then there’s Berlin. Have you been?

Berlin and Germany are not interchangeable.  Germans are the people who live outside Berlin. Berliners are…well… Berliners.

No, Berliners are not jelly doughnuts (re: “Ich bin ein Berliner”). A berliner is only a jelly doughnut outside of Berlin. In Berlin, a jelly doughnut is a pfannkuchen. Keeping up?

I’ve been to Deutschland twice. My first trip was to München. It was the end of October, at the very beginning of the holiday markets. Marienplatz, to me, was the epitome of Christmas in Europe.

The second was to Berlin. It was mid-November (14 years later), with holiday markets up and running. Glühwein stands on the corner. Red or white, your choice. (For me, the answer is always red, although one shop gave us a taste of the white for good measure.)

It was magical.

But not Bavaria magical. It was more like city magical? Munich is, of course, a city, but Munich is more like a town. Berlin is a city. The buildings themselves are stoic.

It’s a wonder to be in. The personality of the neighborhoods. How stories are woven into the streets – literally, cobblestones mark the path of the Berlin wall. The thoughtful remembrance of its dark history. 

When you think “German,”  you might be calling upon an image of Berlin. It’s a little cold, but not in a mean way. More in a “not as friendly” way.

Actually, Berlin is a lot like New York.

It’s been said, New Yorkers are “kind but not nice.” As opposed to people on the West Coast who are seen as “nice but not kind.” (Pick your poison here.)

There’s a certain swagger that New Yorkers are built with. You can’t change it. Some try to. But they  can’t. I’d agree with this sentiment for both New York and Berlin – kind, but not nice.

For many people, their first interaction with New Yorkers is at the airport. JFK and EWR are both international airports, known for being the gateway to the United States. And one thing you might know about New York airports is that we take security very seriously. We have to. It’s pretty much the number one rule at the airport.

Who else takes security seriously? I’d say Germans. And in this sense, I’m invoking the Berlin German.

As a New Yorker, I try to be the most buttoned up traveler going through the airport. If you want me to jump, I will literally say “how high?” In general, I think New Yorkers pride themselves in this. We want to be the most efficient person through the TSA line. We do not want to get called out by TSA or other people in line for that matter. No fooling around, get through. That’s how its done.

So when I went through airport security in Berlin, why did I get stopped not once but twice by airport security? Literal shame.

As an aside – Germans definitely play the shame game. There is a code of honesty that permeates through German culture. For example, if you are taking public transportation, it’s your responsibility to buy your ticket and mark it at the station. No one is necessarily going to check that you paid your fare. But, when the conductor does come around to check your ticket, you better have paid. Because not only will you get a fine, but you’ll get a talking to. There’s a fear of the shame that comes along with being dishonest.

So here I am, feeling the shame. Not only because I pride myself in getting it right, but because it’s Germany.

Now at least at Terminal 1, flying on Turkish Airlines, the BER security check is very organized. The line formed a few paces behind the screening point. Each person or group of travelers would go up to a staging table where a security agent would give instructions, essentially a personalized experience to get all your things ready to go through the scanner. From there you step to the line to go through the screening process.

So what did I get wrong? The first time, I guess I took it upon myself to leave my laptop in my bag, when the instructions were to have electronics out separately. This is a rookie mistake, and I have no excuse for not following this correctly. I’m well aware this is not a TSA pre-check line. (You all know TSA is only for the US right? TSA is not a global entity.)

Oops. Let me rejigger.

Okay. I walk through the screening machine. No beeps, no pat down. I watch my backpack come down the belt. And with that, a sorting barrier opens, pushing my bag onto a secondary belt. The “bad egg” belt, if you will.

I can’t believe it. I’m getting stopped again.

I wait at the end of the screening area for the agent to ask who the bag belongs to. He only speaks German. I speak….nein.

I try to calmly by emotively explain this is my bag, and yes you can open it. He goes to the front zipper, and pulls out a small hand cream. A 1.7 ounce hand cream.

He asks, “What’s this?”

I reply, “Hand cream” (desperately trying to remember if hand cream exists in Germany…..)

He retorts, “Right. A liquid,” and shakes his head quite aggressively

I’m in no position to argue here. If hand cream is a liquid, okay I’m sorry. I should have also pulled that out separately.

He zips my bag back up, and I say thank you and “bitte” at least 3 times.

Did I escape relatively unscathed? Yes. Do I have some scarring? I think these last 400 words indicate I have some scars.

But all in all we got through. I got a little of that German (read: Berlin German) experience. And I felt a little at home too.

Tags: Security; Large Airport; Europe

Jenn

East Side Gallery, Berlin