By the time his airliner landed at Philadelphia International, he was feeling his oats. He even thought he’d let the familiar customs official see the Cuban cigars in his bag, since he had traveled back and forth through this terminal many times. This time, however, an unfamiliar agent was on duty. “Are those what I think they are, honey? the officer asked. “Sure they are. I smoke them in the Cayman Islands where I have my restaurant. “Well, I’m going to have to confiscate them, you understand. The customs officer by now had garnered the attention of several of her fellow officers, which approached. “Well, if you have to confiscate them, let me do one thing, said Tell as he leaned over the bag and fist-stomped every single one of the cigars to shreds—no doubt remembering the time his 6.9 Mercedes was abused by Nixon’s secret service unit and the earlier night when he’d arrived in America for the first time. “Dear, I could have you arrested for doing that. “If I can’t keep them and smoke them, nobody will smoke them. With that, Tell took a step back, pushed up his opened palms into the air and stared at the customs agent and the group of officers behind her, which stared at the ruined Cubans. After a tense moment, the official stamped Tell’s passport and waved him through without further incident. Tell was pissed but he let it be. (from CHEF TELL The Biography of Americas Pioneer TV Showman Chef)
Posted on: Fri, 02 May 2014 06:37:37 +0000