Crossing Boarders

Finally…the plane lands. Now before I go on, I must let you know that the night before I left, I had only had about four hours sleep. Further, I’ve never done well at sleeping in moving vehicles. So in total, I had only had at most five hours of shut eye in about 48 hours. All this to say that I was probably a bit of a mess. It was in this state that I made my way through customs. I handed the young man at the booth my passport, opened to the picture. He took it. He looked at the picture, then at me, then back down at the picture. Still looking at my passport, he inquires, “so, where are you off to next?” Without thinking, I reply, “I’m kind of tired, I think I am just going to make my way downtown and then look for a hotel.” He and his colleague next to him immediately burst out into peels of laughter. They don’t even try to contain their giggles. He gives me a wide grin and then with smirk still on his face says, “So how long will you be staying in the country?” To which I reply, “Oh,” slight pause, “now I get it…this isn’t friendly chitchat to pass the time while you’re determining whether or not I really look like my passport photo. This is actually part of your job.” Then the second round of loud guffaws ensues. At this point, I am sure that he thinks that this is utterly hopeless. With a flick of the wrist and a smile, he waves me through and tells me to have a good time. And I could have sworn that I heard him say that the men in white jackets would be waiting for me down at the end of the hall.

Any guess where these photos were taken? If you’re not quite sure, don’t worry. More photos and proper hints are on their way.