Wednesday, January 04, 2012

Airplane of the Damned III, Customs of the Damned

So, Bahrain is... Another third world shitbox.

Our fuel stop, well, what was supposed to be a quick fuel stop, involved deplaning.  Which involves customs.  Which also involved everyone getting off of the plane.  And passports/visas.

I don't have a passport or visa.  I'm flying on Military travel orders, my ID card is my passport.

I have a funny feeling that I'm not the first American these dudes have run across, nor am I the first that has been traveling without passport or visa.  Normally, as long as you're in the "international" part of the airport, you don't bother with customs.  Just my lucky day.

Pretty sure they were more interested in a bribe, but the dumb looks they gave me when I tried to explain were about what I'd expected, their grasp of engrish is about what I had from my first Terp in Iraq.  Dumb turned to arrogant and pissed when I mentioned that I didn't have any extra cash to pay a fee or a fine, but would happily call the US embassy to sort through any issues.  Then I pulled out my cell phone to call the Ambassador.   I have no idea what the number to the embassy is, or the name of the ambassador.  But the AT&T help desk didn't understand (I think I pressed one for spanglish) and I just started talking fast on the phone.

Soon, I was abruptly given back my meager belongings, and allowed to return to my airplane.

Goodbye, assholes.


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