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Sunday, March 6, 2011

Welcome to - nowhere.


Handing over my passport, answering questions.

Usually it stresses me out a little bit because the whole trip could hinge on this one interview with some failed mall-cop.

This is in no way meant to put down our hard-working customs officials. But sometimes I wonder about the power they wield over the weary Vegas traveller.

But because I do Vegas the 'Royal Flusher' way, I decided that I had a right to be snaking interminably through the customs line, and I was gonna stand my ground against The Man. Because I am a savvy gamblester. And hell, just because that's how I roll.

So I relaxed. It was all gonna be okay.

The line was slower than Disney but I finally made my way to the front.

Scanned the customs agents, looking for the good ones, and the bad ones. I picked out one of 'em to avoid, at booth number 23. I did not like the looks of her at all.

I'm sure she is very nice when she isn't busting balls, but she kinda looked like a power hungry byotch to me.

The 'usher' pointed at me and gestured.


I'm sure I heard her say 'good luck, holmes' too.

I did my little interview thing and sure enough, 23 picks up the phone.

Death, to an international traveller such as myself. You do NOT want your customs agent making any calls about you.

She shook her head some, put the phone down. Looked at the computer.

Got back on the phone.

Got off the phone.

Then she asked me for a printed itinerary.

Double death.

It seems my flight didn't exist. Or something. I was instructed to go out of customs and get a new boarding pass. Then come back, skip the line, and see her again. Oh great. Well, at least I get to skip the Disney line.

I go out and see the agent and tell her what's up.

"KGB #23 says that this boarding pass should have my flight as 006688, not 6688."

"Those people.... need to get a life," she replies.

Next I am given a phone to explain to the United rep. After a while, she comes out to greet me. We go back in, and she tells me to wait (at the Official Red Line).

She goes and clears it with the Head Customs Guy who gestures to another agent (#24) and tells him my pass is okay as is.

He seems happy that I am going to Vegas, rubber stamps my documents, and sends me through.

Now all I have left are a few anal cavity searches and I'm ready to buy some overpriced airport food and wait at my gate!

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