2 posts tagged “vacation”

I left the office Friday after scrambling to finish my work and wrap up every possible loose end, and pretty much fell into the taxi to the airport. This was the point I'd looked forward to for the past three months: vacation. My first real no-work-at-all vacation in a full year. I heaved a sigh of relief and let my brain sink into lala land, reveling in the sudden feeling of weightlessness. I'd planned everything perfectly and was right on time, as usual. On time for me is early for everyone else -- I'm a firm believer in getting to the airport early, having experienced much airport stress traveling in developing countries where processes aren't so smooth.

The first hint that things weren't going to go as planned should have been when my luggage almost got sent to India. (Me to check-in person: "Why is there a transfer tag on my bag?" Check-in person: "So your bag will continue on to India." Me: "But I'm not going to India, I’m going to Bangkok." Check-in person dashes after my bag, which is halfway down the belt...)

I walk away congratulating myself for paying attention. Until I get to the customs counter.

I'm chatting on the phone (yes I know you're not supposed to do that, but I've just managed to connect with my sister in the US and am not going to hang up unless they insist). The customs person asks when I last entered China and I half-heartedly try to remember... maybe September or October? Then I notice she's not letting me through, but is flipping through my passport, examining each page. I hang up in a hurry.

I'm escorted to one of those little rooms in the back. Turns out I've overstayed my visa by 41 days -- apparently "multiple entry visa" means each stay 30 can be up to days, and then you have to leave the country and return. Oops, missed the fine print on that one. I don't bother to mention that if that's the case I've overstayed several times before...

My flight is in one hour. There are several options: play the dumb foreigner card (pretend not to speak Chinese and feign total clulessness), fight, or cooperate. I've learned that playing dumb doesn't work in complicated or time-sensitive situations, and anyways, foreigners are getting less special treatment these days (this is a good thing). Fighting isn't an option since I don't have much of a leg to stand on. So, apologize it is.

Luckily, speaking Chinese wins me big points. There's a whopping fine for overstaying -- nearly $700 in Chinese yuan -- but I blink only a minute because it's going to get me on that plane in 55 minutes. I chat briefly with the customs officials, apologize for the oversight, and then haul ass outside security to the airport entrance and push my way through the throngs of people to the nearest ATM machine (of course they don't take credit cards, it has to be cash). And then realize I left my Chinese bank ATM card at home because it wouldn't do me any good in Thailand.

Now I'm starting to sweat, because I know there's a limit to how much I can withdraw using my US ATM card.  Sure enough, only $300. Shit.

Then I dig into the US dollars I'd changed for the trip and run to the nearest money exchange counter. I'm about to feel relieved when they remind me I've reached the limit for changing USD into Chinese yuan. I'm fucked.

30 minutes left until boarding time. I run back to those little offices and start to panic, imagining missing this vacation because of not being able to withdraw money I *have*. I was once detained overnight at the Beijing airport because of a journalist visa snafu (that's another story) and know if I can't come up with the cash that they won't let me go. I am officially out of ideas. I get back to the little office, take one look at nice Mr. Customs Officer, and burst into tears.

Now, let me say here that I'm not the tears type. I'll admit to batting my eyelashes on occasion (c'mon, you do it too), but draw the line there. I've never turned on the waterworks in a relationship, speeding ticket, or any other situation. I'm incapable of crying on demand, and anyways think it's stupid. No tears.

Except now I'm crying. I'm trying to compose myself, but the thought of missing my vacation makes it hard for me to get a grip. Nice Mr. Customs Official now has a distraught foreign woman on his hands, and is clearly flustered (apparently tears really DO have that stereotypical effect on men). But we're friends, and he's decided he's going to help. He winds me through the airport to another faraway money exchange counter, announces that I have a flight to catch, that I need to pay a fine, and could they please help change my US dollars. I don't have high hopes as I slide the bills across the counter, because as soon as they swipe my passport they'll see I'm at the exchange limit.

But miraculously, the uniform seems to have the desired effect. They hand me the money in a matter of seconds. Mr. Customs Official and I run upstairs to sign the paperwork and then to customs. I am so grateful to Mr. Customs Official, but manage only a very heartfelt thank you before being whisked through the customs line, just in time to catch my flight.