Passport story
I was traveling from Manila to Shenzhen via Hong Kong, a trip which put me close to being deported from the People's Republic, but also gave me interesting insight into three different cultures.
As the immigration officer at Ninoy Aquino in Manila was checking my passport, the identification page of my passport fell out. I froze up, and thought "Man, they are never going to let me on this flight!". The officer however, just looked embarassed, smiled at me and said "Sorry sir, but here is your passport, I am afraid it broke, please pass through". I smiled back at him, and made a mental note of how friendly, and somewhat ad hoc, Filipino government employees always are.
As I was walking towards immigration in Hong Kong International Airport, I tried to stick my now loose identification page into my passport again, hoping that the glue would keep it together for those crucial thirty seconds. However, as the immigration officer examined my picture, the page fell out of my passport and onto his desk. Ever so slowly, as I again froze up, he picked up my renegade identification page and looked at me, "Sir, your passport is broken. Do you know why?" I panicked, thinking that there was no good reason for my passport breaking all of a sudden and I could only stammer "Eh..I travel a lot and...now...you broke my passport!". The unfairly accused immigration officer called on a supervisor, and after three minutes of paperwork I was let through with a courteous "Please get a new passport, as others might not be as lenient as us." A sigh of relief erupted from my lungs and I made a mental note of how professional, expedient and courteous Hong Kong government employees always are.
Now, my passport was still broken, and I had one more passport control to go before I reached Shenzhen. At the border to the People's Republic, I again waited nervously in line to see if I could make it through. Olympics is coming up, and security is tighter than ever in the old Middle Kingdom. As the Chinese immigration officer was swiping my passport, the identification page again fell out. "Damn passport! What should I do know?" I thought to myself. The immigration officer did not hesitate for a second, he immediately pointed a finger at me and yelled "The first thing you have to understand is that this is YOUR problem, not OURS!" I was taken aback by the rudeness, but tried to keep calm as I knew that I was clutching the short end of the stick. During fourty five minutes of waiting my passport travelled through all the levels of authority at this particular border control station. I imagine that when it finally reached the head honcho, he glanced at it for a few seconds before muttering "Just let him through". As I was let through immigration and finally reached my destination, I made a mental note of how rude, slow and inefficient Chinese government employees always are.


