This one time I was going though French customs wearing a Mr. T shirt (my lucky flying shirt). It’s a picture of Mr. T, with the line “I aint’ gettin’ on no plane!” underneath his picture.
Anyway, the customs guy was a real French asshole (are there any other kind? j/k), and he was harassing everybody before stamping their passport, or passing them along for a strip search. I finally get up to the customs booth and I’m a little nervous at this point, obviously. He asks for my passport in a really rude way (as he did with the previous 20 people ahead of me), but as I hand it to him, he notices my shirt.
He stared at my shirt for a good 10 seconds, then I literally watched his face go from a permanent frown to the happiest he’s looked in probably 20 years. He looks at me and shouts (in the biggest French accent ever), “EHhhhh, MISTEIHR T!!!!!!!!!!! MISTEIR T, EH???”
He then immediately stamped my passport without so much as even looking at my picture.
Easiest cocaine smuggling trip ever.