The Most Dangerous Man on the Plane

The flight back from Damascus to Istanbul wasn't too bad. But it was a different story going from Istanbul to JFK! "Hello," the security lady greeted me. "Where are you flying from?"
"Syria."
"Souria?" she asked. Her eyes glaze a little.
"Yes."
"What were you doing there?"
"Visiting a friend."
All the usual questions ensued. "Is there anything in your luggage that could be considered a weapon?"
"Well, there's a knife with a blade about nine inches long."
"You bought it in Souria?"
"Yes."
She put a couple of red stamps on the back of my passport. They searched my carry-on bag and then escorted me down to the tarmac, where my bags were brought over. "Open please!" Four airport security men searched through my clothes and gifts. After a few minutes they escorted me back to the holding area. They held on to my boarding pass until people started boarding, and then I had a personal escort all the way to the plane entrance. I have to admit I kinda enjoyed the attention, and it was fun to be the badass.
Surprisingly, in New York I didn't have any problems at all.