I had my head craned up, taking in some small feature of the Parliament entry when one of my travel companions, visibly nervous, asked me a question.

 

“Do you think they’ll confiscate my defense baton?” she asked. 

 

It took me a moment to parse what she’d said. Defense baton? It was an item I was not very familiar with. I’d soon have plenty of time to give it careful consideration, though.

 

Personal security should weigh on the mind of any responsible traveler, from not getting pick-pocketed to knowing what parts of town are not safe for tourists. Preparation is key to maintaining your safety.

 

Even beyond the scope of international travel, personal security is an important topic. Women in particular are taught in the U.S. and many other countries to take responsibility for their own well-being and for knowing what to do in a crisis situation. A basic understanding of hand-to-hand combat techniques, a ready can of pepper spray, or, in more extreme cases, quick access to blunt force weapons and fire arms are common daily methods of self-defense preparedness in the U.S.

 

This is not a subject I have personally given a lot of thought to in my life. Maybe I’m complacent. Or maybe the tide of self-defense preparedness education consciously passed me up because I am a man who is 6 feet 5 inches, 200 pounds and have been at least that big and often bigger since I was 16. I’ve never been made to feel self-conscious or vulnerable walking down a street. The freedom to move around and not feel noticed, much less threatened, is something I take for granted.

 

The daily reality is different for women and girls, though. They begin to be noticed at a young age and are made to feel both visible and vulnerable. And when they are not being approached or called to on the street, they are warned and educated by parents, teachers, the media and law enforcement on subjects of self-defense and awareness of threats.

 

This dichotomy has left me in a precarious position. While my odds of being accosted on any given day are still lower than a woman’s, if I were threatened, my strategies are limited. Essentially my first defense against someone armed with a dirty look would be to throw them my keys and wallet.

 

Too much enthusiasm can lead to its own dangers, though, especially when moving between legal jurisdictions. Take the case of the telescoping defense batons. These items are light, rigid and potentially deadly. They collapse down to a cylindrical few inches, but if released and swung they will expand to anywhere from 12 to 21 inches. They were designed for police, military and professional security application but have enjoyed a wide popularity in the personal self-defense market since the 1990s.

 

These are legally contentious items as they are often classified as concealed weapons. The laws regulating them vary not only country to country, but even state to state within the U.S. While you can freely possess and carry them in Indiana, they are illegal as nearby as Michigan.

 

“Do you think they’ll confiscate my defense baton?” she asked.

 

I was pretty sure I knew what she was talking about. I’d seen enough riot and crowd control footage to have a rough image filed right between tear gas canister and Molotov cocktail.

 

“Yes, absolutely! Why do you have that here!” I wanted to shout.

 

But what I said was, “I don’t know. I guess we’ll see.”

 

Turns out they will confiscate a defense baton at security checkpoints in Hungary. They also will pull you out of line and detain you until the police arrive. Telescoping defense batons are 100 percent illegal there. No gray area. No take it away and let you on through with a stern warning. You stand there in the security check area with the bemused military personnel who have never seen one of these things in person before, only in manuals of prohibited items. You wait for the news to travel up the chain of command in the city police until they find someone who knows what to do in this situation.

 

She was pulled out of line, and I appointed myself to stay behind as moral support. If physically attacked, I’m useless. But when it comes to maintaining a pretense of calm in a tense situation still mostly based on words and higher-level communication, I can manage that.

 

Of course, words were of only so much use. The military personnel we were with spoke only rudimentary English, and if pressed, I could almost pronounce the Hungarian word for thank you.

 

So we spent a lot of time analyzing the situation between ourselves and sort of detailing what we hoped wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Am I going to be on a watch list now?” she asked. “I mean, am I going to be hassled every time I travel?”

 

A fair question, and a distinct possibility. But, as the situation seemed at first, I’d call us lucky if that was to be the worst outcome.

 

It helped that the guards themselves seemed more bemused than disconcerted. They inspected the baton and showed it to curious onlookers who’d apparently heard the scuttlebutt and came to see what the fuss was about. We seemed to be an unfolding case of water cooler talk.

 

My friend, the detainee, even had the occasion to demonstrate the proper method of recollapsing the baton for the presiding officer. A trick he soon proudly redemonstrated for his colleague. He then whipped it back out to partial length and playfully poked his companion in the stomach. This let some of the tension out of the room. I doubted that many international crises unfold with playful pokes along the way.

 

Eventually my travel mate was collected by the police and taken to the nearby station. I was informed I would not be allowed to go, which re-upped my tension level, not that I could’ve been much help. I hadn’t even provided a straight answer when she’d asked me if I thought her baton would be confiscated.

 

Luckily, though, our group had been accompanied earlier in the day by a local woman, an acquaintance of our trip leader, and she rejoined us outside the Parliament. She was there to speak with the police in blessedly fluent Hungarian and got permission to accompany them as the translator.

 

Eventually my group member was released and told that she should leave her contact information. They would process the case further, and if a fine was to be paid, she would be sent notification.

 

All of this speaks well of Hungary’s desire to be accommodating to clueless Americans. Many countries in the world would have taken this opportunity to make an example of an American national, and at that point, our lives would have become fodder for a future “Dateline” special.

 

It also serves as a lesson in how to approach travel between legal jurisdictions. Question everything. Know the law. And don’t cross borders with concealed weapons.