Passport drama, part the not-related-to-this-blog

When I was younger I spent a summer working in Germany. It was good. Happy fun. La la la.

Eventually, the time came for me to return home to Canada. By that point, I'd accumulated enough stuff that I couldn't carry it all at once. I took my carry-on bags and stowed them in a train station locker near the hostel I stayed at in my last night in Germany. Then I took my luggage and hauled it to the Frankfurt airport. I checked my stuff in and then headed back to the other end of the city to retrieve the rest of my crap.

I got back to airport and proceeded to the appropriate gate. The attendants asked for my boarding pass, which I gave them. Then they asked for my passport. No problem. It's... um... er... crap... I jumped out of the queue and began rummaging through my backpack. I emptied the contents onto the floor. I up-turned my crammed-full shopping bag onto the floor. No luck.

Wait. I didn't! No, surely not. I couldn't have. I wouldn't have. Did I?

I had packed my passport into my luggage, which had been thrown into the plane's hold two hours previous. Oops.

I confessed my error to the attendant, who was somewhat bewildered. He called his co-worker over and I explained my story again. Pretty soon all the attendants had gathered around and were staring at me and at each other in utter disbelief. I had to tell my little tale to each of them, one by one.

Finally, somebody called a manager over. In typical German fashion, he informed me, You should not have done this.

I know. I'm sorry.

Why, he demanded in English, would you have done such a foolish thing?

I'm sorry; it was an accident, I repeated for the 8,642nd time.

Look, he informed me in German, you must not do this.

Exasperated, I responded (also in German), I didn't do it on purpose!

Up 'til this point, everybody had been reacting as though I were a Canadian citizen trying to board a flight to Canada. Suddenly, they stopped dead in their collective track. They all stared at me, open-mouthed. The pause was uncomfortably long. They gawked at me. They looked at each other. Finally, one of them timidly ventured, You are German?

No, no, no. I'm Canadian. I am a Canadian citizen, trying to get on a flight to Canada. I have accidentally packed my passport into my luggage, which is currently in the hold of that plane there.

They sent luggage handlers out to search for my bags. Since my luggage was checked in so early, though, it was at the bottom of a very full hold. It could not be retrieved without completely unpacking the plane.

After much thought, the manager decided to let me on the plane. You must retrieve your luggage when you get back to Edmonton, and go through customs to show it to the attendants there.

Fine. No problem. Whatever. Thank you.

And, he oh-so-helpfully advised me, you must never do this again.

Right.

Fast forward eight hours. The Edmonton Internation Airport. I haul my luggage off the conveyor belt and dig through it to find the passport. I get it out and queue up for the customs desk.

After half an hour's wait, I get to the desk. The man looked at my passport and laughed. You're Canadian. You don't have to come through customs. Next!

Grr. Argh.