San Francisco International Airport.
At 5'9" I don't often tower over anyone, let alone an entire roomful of people. Yet, as I stand in this serpentine queue, that is precisely what I'm doing- towering. Armed with cameras and camcorders, these optimistic observers commence to capture every magical moment of this mundane procession to the ticket counter. Perhaps they are secretly filming the light-eyed spectacle among them. I begin to imagine towering over a sea of these diminutives on a busy Saigon streetside, my Herculean muscles glistening in the sunlight, when I'm called to the counter.
I hand the agent my passport and after leafing through it he asks, "Where is your wisa?" I smile at his Chekovian pronunciation, but the little chef in my gut is sheepishly hinting that I may have forgotten a key ingredient in this recipe. I explain that it's okay, I'm a seasoned traveler. I've even been to Thailand- twice. Enter supervisor. Half waiting for her to say, "Well Mr. Bieler, since you're such an experienced traveler and you've even been to Thailand and all, we're just going to let you slip into the country without the necessary paperwork." But she doesn't say that. In fact, I'm beginning to suspect that someone else may be enjoying the view from my window seat.
With only seconds left in the game and trailing badly I mount my comeback. I take aim and shoot, "How 'bout I just get to Taiwan and get my visa there?" Denied. I grab the rebound, drive downcourt and go for the slam dunk, "What about Thailand?" Rejected. She recovers the ball and calls for a time out. "Go talk to him." The stranger is working the sidelines so I cover him man-to-man until I corner him and discover that he's a travel agent seeing off his customer. Wow, now that's a full service travel agent! When is the last time your agent accompanied you to the airport? Anyway, my last embers of hope are quickly doused as he informs me that the Vietnamese government is closed for Tet, the new year celebration, and there's nothing anyone can do.
"And there's the buzzer folks. The players showed up, but the gameplan was flawed. A heartbreaking last minute loss if there ever was one." I head back to the locker room to regroup. Assuming I can salvage the trip, there is an upside side to all this: 1) a lucky stand-by passenger is going home, 2) that damn camera I ordered too late on the internet might actually accompany me and 3) I won't have to deal with the Tet shutdown. This is the barefoot philosopher signing off.
I hand the agent my passport and after leafing through it he asks, "Where is your wisa?" I smile at his Chekovian pronunciation, but the little chef in my gut is sheepishly hinting that I may have forgotten a key ingredient in this recipe. I explain that it's okay, I'm a seasoned traveler. I've even been to Thailand- twice. Enter supervisor. Half waiting for her to say, "Well Mr. Bieler, since you're such an experienced traveler and you've even been to Thailand and all, we're just going to let you slip into the country without the necessary paperwork." But she doesn't say that. In fact, I'm beginning to suspect that someone else may be enjoying the view from my window seat.
With only seconds left in the game and trailing badly I mount my comeback. I take aim and shoot, "How 'bout I just get to Taiwan and get my visa there?" Denied. I grab the rebound, drive downcourt and go for the slam dunk, "What about Thailand?" Rejected. She recovers the ball and calls for a time out. "Go talk to him." The stranger is working the sidelines so I cover him man-to-man until I corner him and discover that he's a travel agent seeing off his customer. Wow, now that's a full service travel agent! When is the last time your agent accompanied you to the airport? Anyway, my last embers of hope are quickly doused as he informs me that the Vietnamese government is closed for Tet, the new year celebration, and there's nothing anyone can do.
"And there's the buzzer folks. The players showed up, but the gameplan was flawed. A heartbreaking last minute loss if there ever was one." I head back to the locker room to regroup. Assuming I can salvage the trip, there is an upside side to all this: 1) a lucky stand-by passenger is going home, 2) that damn camera I ordered too late on the internet might actually accompany me and 3) I won't have to deal with the Tet shutdown. This is the barefoot philosopher signing off.
