A World Traveler Is Harmless, Yet Suspect I THINK I'm a friendly person, but once I get on an airplane I barely speak to anyone. I'm traveling so much, predominantly throughout the United States, Asia and Europe, that sometimes I'm not even quite sure of my itinerary. Fred Richards, worldwide creative director of consumer branding for The Brand Union, in Steamboat Springs, Colo. A. Once a week, evenly split between domestic and international. A. Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport. It's a classic example of an airport that doesn't know how to function like an airport. A. New Zealand. The people are aggressively friendly and the country is just spectacular. A. I really don't have one. I know that airport vices can get you into trouble. So I no longer drink at airports, eat junk food or even waste time reading trashy magazines. I go to a lounge and work. Not surprisingly, no one really likes traveling with me. As worldwide creative director for the Brand Union, I travel to pitch new clients, make sure all our offices are running smoothly, and meet with existing clients. Work doesn't stop because I'm on a plane, so I'm not the guy who has a lot of time to chat. I may be missing out on meeting some interesting people, but I want to avoid the nightmare scene of someone talking to me about their children, their pets or their work during an eight-hour flight. Early in my career I would talk to seatmates, but I've learned the hard way that once you start talking, there's often no good way to stop. The most anyone will get out of me now is a polite nod, which is plenty. I'm very disciplined about travel. That's the only way I can get through it. Once I'm done working on international flights, I'll have a glass of red wine and take some melatonin. I'm out like a light and it's nothing but sweet dreams for me until we land. Part of my low-key approach to business travel is the fact that I have been stopped and searched so many times. Without a doubt, my profile is a mixed bag and must set off all kinds of alarms. First, I was born in Zambia to Welsh parents. Most people have no idea where Zambia is, including passport officials. Second, I travel on a British passport with a Welsh name, Dyfed Wynn Richards. I live in the United States and have a green card. Anyone looking through my passport stamps and the frequency of my international travel probably assumes something is up. I can't blame them. If I was in charge of passport control, I would stop someone with my profile, too. One of the strangest experiences I have ever had was back when I was a young, broke designer. I was living in London at the time and dating a young woman who lived in France. Back then, the ferry between Dover and Calais was the cheapest option. I made the trip several times with no problem, but finally customs and immigration officials stopped me when I was returning to Dover. I was asked to step into a room and I was grilled by three big guys and our conversation was being taped. It was awful. Plus they asked me to remove my clothes and they even took a urine sample. I'm a big guy myself and don't scare that easy, but I was petrified. I was let go because I didn't do anything wrong and when I got home I did tell my father about the situation. He contacted our local parliament member, and we did receive a document detailing the interview. Apparently, the officials thought I was very defensive because of my body language and gestures. They also put in the report that I cried. I remember my dad saying, "Really, you cried?" Last year I was stopped in Singapore for about six hours. I flew in from Bangkok. Everyone was extremely polite, but I had my baggage searched. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but I do think the sheer number of stamps on my passport, my real name, and my residency status probably prompted the search. I take it in stride. Maybe they thought I was a bald James Bond. And for the record, I didn't cry. By Fred Richards, as told to Joan Raymond.