It was my first time at Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport and I was succumbing to temptation. All around me were displays of bulbs and blooms - and if October isn't exactly the spring flower season, they made up for it in artificial flowers, wooden tulips, and even big plastic tulip-topped pens. If I wanted a memento of my few hours at this airport - other than the cherished replacement battery charger for my Canon Eos which I had foolishly left in the States - the easy route would be to buy a nice, safe bouquet of wooden flowers or satisfy myself with those tulip pens, maybe one in each color.
What I didn't want to do is end up with a bag of bulbs in my carryon luggage, and a nice chat with the USDA Agricultural Inspector at my port of entry in Portland ... where, incidentally, they have signs saying "Port of Portland" which seems a tad redundant.
But in the end, I couldn't resist and scarcely restricted myself to a single pack of a dozen pink and green Groenland tulip. bulbs. On the back of the bag was a numbered silvery label swearing that these bulbs met every possible health requirement for both the United States and Canada. Would that get my bulbs through?
I duly noted my purchase on my entry card and was sent over to the dreaded Agricultural Inspection line. "Are they accessible?" the inspector rasped. "Yes, sir!" I answered and pulled them from my bag. He looked at them dolefully, finally flipping them over and reading the certificate on the back. "You did well," he told me. "Without this tag I couldn't let you keep them. These are fine." I felt jubilant. Then he said "But...." and my heart dropped. What had he just noticed about my bulbs?
"Yes?" He pointed again at the label. "You better get them in the ground soon! It's planting time!"
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