And he's far from the only one: The most common strategies involve some common sense (if incredibly embarrassing) travel hacks, like wearing all your heavy stuff instead of packing it, opening the stitching of your jacket and stuffing it full of miscellaneous small stuff, or draping a beach towel around your shoulders and wearing it like a cape under your coat. We have no idea how American airport security would react to a jacket stuffed with phone chargers or a guy pretending he's store-brand Superman, but at least one dude seems to be able to bounce around Europe using these strategies with no problems.

Benny Lewis
"My cheapness is fueled by Earth's yellow sun."

You probably don't think of coupon exchange as the kind of thing you can be good at. It's not exactly a martial art; there's no belt system for advancing through the ranks of being a cheap bastard. You hand the cashier a piece of colorful paper, she knocks 15 percent off the market price of your Nakatomi Scrotum Shaver, and everybody goes home feeling slightly worse about themselves.

Photos.com
Albeit significantly better groomed.

And it's precisely that kind of defeatist thinking that separates you from the mad genius of Norbert Verswijver, the Norwegian black belt of coupon-fu. After poring over the small print of some coupons in whatever the Norwegian version of the Penny Saver is (Flubenhoffer, we want to say?), Verswijver realized that there were no rules saying he couldn't combine that week's coupons at Blokker. A "20 percent off!" coupon pairs quite well with a "$15 off!" after all. He collected as many as he could and carefully arranged them like a miser's Pokemon deck until he was able to pick up high-end electronics, totally legally, and basically for free.

But how much could you possibly get away with before the Blokkens realize you're bluffing them out of an entire store? Well, Verswijver successfully bought 50,000 euros' worth of electronics ... for 60 cents. That may be his most impressive maneuver, but it's not his only one: He's also purchased shipments of frozen food for free using similar systems and donated it to the poor, earning him his reputation as "the Robin Hood of couponing." We imagine it may have had something to do with the hat as well.

Belga
Not to mention the citywide rash of sale flyers hung on arrows.

Vine-Glo and a handful of other companies sold cans of grape concentrate or compressed grape bricks, sometimes including yeast pills, which could, we suppose, be used to make wine -- but whoever would think of such a thing? That would be violating the nation's newfound vow of temperance, so Vine-Glo included instructions to help their customers avoid this terrible sin, which read:

"Warning. Do not place this brick in a one gallon crock, add sugar and water, cover, and let stand for seven days or else an illegal alcoholic beverage will result.

Jupiterimages/Stockbyte/Getty Images, Photos.com

"... included hose and funnel should only be used for lubricating machinery."

During Prohibition, people were allowed to make 200 gallons of "nonintoxicating" grape juice a year without taxation. "Nonintoxicating" basically meant juice, but was also loosely interpreted to refer to wine used in religious ceremonies or medicine (side note: pretty much all of our hard drugs were over the counter "medicine" back in the day). Because the term was never properly defined, people took it to mean that you could ferment up some eye-watering fortified "nonintoxicating" wine that would knock your ass in the dirt like a prizefighter, and all on the up and up. It didn't, of course -- they don't call it Prohibition because it's really in favor of hibition -- but with a wink and a nudge, companies exploited the loophole to sell huge quantities of DIY wine, complete with instructions. Because, much like life, getting blitzed always finds a way.

Of course, no one did, because we love our hilariously impractical and outdated paper dollars. Come on! Our wallets are paper-shaped, we're practically helpless here! But a few people saw a golden opportunity to con their way into some free airline miles. You're familiar with the system: Lots of credit cards come with reward plans that give you free stuff (most commonly airline miles) in exchange for using your card for purchases. But by using their reward cards to buy actual, physical money, these clever scammers could just turn around and immediately use the coins to pay off their credit card. In this fashion, people were able to rack up theoretically infinite flights for free. One guy, going by the name Mr. Pickles, claims to have bought $800,000 in coins, earning 2 million frequent flier miles and lifetime platinum elite status. He now gets to board the plane early for the rest of his life, and all without paying a cent. Even as a child, we always knew Mr. Pickles was destined for greatness.

Hemera Technologies/Photos.com
Pictured: greatness.

Of course, this meant that the coins weren't actually going into service -- the government was dumping money on shipping to get the coins to people's homes, only to have them immediately deposited right back into the bank. Then folks would just order more, and the government had to pay for them to be shipped again; repeat ad infinitum. They closed the loophole as soon as they found out about it, we all forgot about dollar coins, and our wallets continue to be full of crumpled up germ sheets to this day.

"After you."
"Oh, no. I infist."

Sports journalists assume that this loophole will be closed soon, because if there's any business that deeply cares about the sanctity of its players' skulls, it's professional sports.

Chan Teik Onn enjoys his quiet afternoons on Facebook. He also recently made a Twitter account.

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Related Reading: While we're on the subject of "trolling", check out what Galileo did to the Pope. But hey, at least mockery isn't as bad as payday lenders who use Native tribal sovereignty to charge unfair interest rates. And just in case you don't believe the justice system is broken, read this.