Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Chapter Twelve
“There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your
face.”
—Ben Williams
I
got the call at seven in the morning: “The ambassador will see you today.”
Upon arriving at the consulate, however, I discovered that I would not actually be meet-
ing with the ambassador, himself. Instead, an appointment had been arranged with a consu-
late official that worked in customs. Sounded just as good to me.
After the call, I headed over to the official's office to find out just what miracles they had
in store for me. He asked if I had all my documents with me. I did—my bike's registration,
the carnet, and other records that basically vouched for my status as a really good guy and
not someone who was part of an underground terrorist network.
The official then handed them to his assistant and asked that they be photocopied. He
turned to me and explained: “I can't make you any promises, but we'll see what we can do.”
As the official and I waited for the assistant to return, he tried to explain the tricky little
Vietnamese customs law that had kept Kindness One locked in solitary confinement for the
better part of the week: You could only bring in items that you could literally carry. Unless
that item was new. But Kindness One was far from new, and there was no way I could carry
it.
Not long after, the official seemed concerned that his assistant had not returned. He called
him back in the office and asked for the documents. The assistant cocked his head: “The
documents?”
Oh, shit.
“Yes,” the official tried quite valiantly to keep his cool. “The documents?”
“Oh,” his assistant replied nonchalantly, “I shredded those.”
Yes, you heard that right. I mean, at the time, the official and I both doubted our hearing,
but what the assistant had said was true. He had shredded all of my most important docu-
