Our introduction to Australia started before we even made it out of the airport.

Actually, the story technically began before we even landed.

During the flight into Melbourne, we had been talking with an Australian woman sitting near us, and at some point I asked her about the food I still had in my bag from the very long journey over. Some of it was open, some of it was unopened, and I was not sure how strict Australia was going to be about bringing food into the country.

Her advice was simple: better safe than sorry.

So I listened.

Once we landed, before we got very far into the airport, I found a trash can and started unloading everything edible from my bag. Open packages, unopened packages, snacks I had saved from the flight — all of it went straight into the trash. I was taking absolutely no chances.

I even threw away an unopened package of dark chocolate peanut butter cups.

That one hurt.

I remember feeling quite responsible about the whole thing.

Look at me, following international customs rules before anyone even had to ask.

Then we got in line.

Everyone in front of us was being directed one way, so naturally we assumed we would be going the same way.

We did not.

When it was our turn, we were pointed toward a completely different line.

The special line. The line for extra checks.

Of course.

Apparently Australia had taken one look at us and decided, Those two. Let’s learn a little more about them.

So there we were, freshly arrived after a very long journey, having already thrown away every suspicious snack I owned — including perfectly good dark chocolate peanut butter cups — and somehow we were still being selected for additional screening.

While we were standing there, airport staff asked a strangely specific question:

“Do any of the Americans have beef jerky?”

Sarah and I looked at each other.

Beef jerky?

Why would they be asking us that?

I had literally just thrown away every food item I had been carrying, and more importantly, I am a vegetarian. If there was one thing I was extremely confident I did not have hidden somewhere in my luggage, it was beef jerky.

So we said no, still wondering why this seemed to be such an important topic.

Then we were instructed to stand in a single straight line with our luggage positioned in front of us while a detection dog made its way up and down the row sniffing everyone and everything.

Even when you know you have absolutely nothing illegal in your suitcase, there is something about a customs dog putting its nose near your luggage that suddenly makes you question every choice you have ever made.

I had just personally cleaned my bag out like I was preparing it for a forensic investigation, and somehow I was still standing there thinking, Wait. Did I miss something? Is chewing gum illegal? Did a peanut fall into a pocket somewhere?

Then the dog handler walked over to me, looked directly at me, and asked if she could put a piece of beef jerky in my backpack so the dog could practice finding it.

Naturally, she chose the vegetarian.

The same vegetarian who had just thrown away every single food item she had been carrying because an Australian had advised her not to take any chances.

Apparently I had gone through all that effort just so airport security could put food back into my bag.

And not just any food.

Beef jerky.

Suddenly the earlier question made a lot more sense.

“Do any of the Americans have beef jerky?”

At the time, we had thought, What an oddly specific thing to ask.

Now I was apparently the American with the beef jerky.

Except this time, technically, I had agreed to it. But really, what was I going to say? No? I had just been pulled into the special extra-screening line in Australian customs. This did not feel like the moment to become difficult.

So despite the fact that I am a vegetarian and absolutely despise the smell of beef jerky, I smiled and agreed to let this woman put a piece of it directly into my backpack.

Perfect.

I had just thrown away all of my own perfectly good snacks — to obey Australia’s food rules, and now Australian customs was putting meat I hated into my bag.

The dog made his way down the line, sniffing each suitcase and bag carefully.

He got to mine.

And kept going.

Nothing.

So not only had I willingly allowed Australian customs to turn me into a temporary beef jerky smuggler, apparently I was also very good at it.

The dog had completely missed the contraband.

The handler sent him around again while I stood there wondering how a vegetarian who had thrown away all of her food had somehow become the most suspicious person in the line.

Eventually the dog figured things out, the handler retrieved her jerky, and my brief career in international meat trafficking came to an end.

We were finally released into Melbourne and free to begin our Australian adventure.

So, to recap our first few minutes in Australia: I carefully threw away all of my food to avoid getting in trouble with customs, sacrificed an unopened package of dark chocolate peanut butter cups in the process, got pulled out of the normal line and sent for extra screening, listened as airport staff specifically asked whether any Americans had beef jerky, then agreed to let a customs officer put the one food whose smell I absolutely cannot stand into my backpack — only for the detection dog assigned to find it to walk right past me.

We had not even left the airport yet.

Australia was already delivering.