crazy-looking grasshopper I saw on my way to the airport – maybe it was an omen???
“This passport is fake,” the airport police officer says. He emphasizes “fake,” spitting the word out of his mouth like a wayward fly. A wave of panic rises into my chest. I’m at the EasyJet ticket counter, leaving Greece to head to Rome, Italy after an amazing few days on the island of Santorini. He’s looking at me like I’m a criminal.
My mind starts to race. Did the staff at the hostel I stayed at in Oia switch out my passport with a fake one? Is that why they make their guests leave their passports at the front desk until checkout? No, no way. There must be some mistake.
“No, sir,” I say slowly. “That passport cannot be fake. I received it in the mail directly from the U.S. Department of State. I am from the United States of America.”
His brows furrow deeper together. “No, we can tell when a passport is fake,” he persists, rubbing the papers inside the booklet in between his fingers like he knows what REAL passport paper is supposed to feel like.
We go back and forth like this in the airport lobby for a few minutes, until he shakes his head as if he doesn’t want to hear any more of my lies. ”Come with me,” he orders, motioning for me to follow him into a back room. There is a second police officer sitting inside at a big desk.
Oh boy, I thought. How am I gonna get out of this? I need to get ON that plane to Rome in the next 30 minutes!
Inside the small room, the first police officer starts in with his interrogation. “You can go to jail for this,” he keeps saying in a stern voice. I look him up and down. He’s tanned, muscular and cute as hell. And he can’t be more than 25 years old. Maybe there is a bit of humor in this situation. My instinct is to flirt with him, but this is clearly not the time or place. Instead, I keep trying to prove that my passport isn’t fake, that I am indeed the person in the photo. I pull out my driver’s license and my flight itinerary.
I give him a printout that shows my air route from DC to Greece, then out of Spain back to DC in a few weeks. He glances at it, then passes the papers to his colleague. I show him my driver’s license. “See? They match.” I don’t know why I think this is important but they both nod at each other, so maybe it is.
“Do you have an ID card?” the first police officer asks. “No. This is considered an ID card in the U.S.” The second police officer just looks at me. He seems more laid back and none too concerned about whether my passport is legit or not. He’s young, too.
The first police officer continues with the questions:
- Why are you going to Rome? I’m just traveling. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.
- Why are you traveling alone? Um, because I want to? I don’t even know anyone else who could travel with me.
- Why do you only have one bag if you are traveling for one month? It makes it easier to get around – less things to carry.
I guess this is their version of the good cop, bad cop routine? I turn to start reasoning with the second police officer instead.
“My passport is brand new, sir. June 2012. I just got it in the mail before I came here. Maybe they are using a new type of passport paper now?” The good cop nods, as if that might be a possibility. The bad cop acts like he doesn’t even hear me. “Why no stamp from Athens?”
I have no answer for this question. I got a stamp during my layover in Madrid. Was I supposed to get a stamp in Athens? No one made me go through customs. I remember just walking out of the airport to my bus. Did I sneak out of the Athens airport undetected???
“I don’t know, sir.” I shrug at the good cop. “This is my first time in Greece! Everything has been going well until now,” I say, my voice cracking. Tears start to pool up in my eyes. I need to get on that flight to Rome!
The good cop looks at me, sympathetic. He’s feeling my pain, I can tell. But still, they both keep looking at my passport. I keep racking my brain. What else can I say to make them believe me?
Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in my head. Maybe it’s my passport photo! I still have on the black turban I slept in. But my passport photo shows me in an afro.
“Do you want to see my hair?” I ask, motioning to the picture in the booklet. “Yes!” both cops say, almost in unison. “Let’s see your hair.” I whip off my turban, revealing my shrunken afro. I know it looks like a stale prune.
“It doesn’t look so good right now, but that’s me. You see?” I point to my passport, then I point to my hair.
The good cop looks like he wants to bust out laughing. Then he does. Even the bad cop can’t help himself. He lets out a chuckle. “You don’t look that dark in the picture,” he says, still trying to sound skeptical.
“Oh,” I say, laughing. “That’s because I’ve been laying on the beach in Perissa for the past two days. I’m a little blacker now.”
They let me gather my things and escort me back to the ticket counter, just in time for me to board my flight to Rome. For now, it seems I get to continue my European adventure.
Read my previous Travel Diaries:
- Travel Diary: My First Day in Greece and City Circus Hostel
- Travel Diary: Exploring Monastiraki, Plaka and Acropolis in Athens
- Travel Diary: Shopping in Athens, Sunset in Santorini
- Travel Diary: 7 Reasons Why I Fell in Love with Greece (Especially Santorini!)
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Sorry this happened, but thanks for sharing! And hooray, for keeping your cool. Every black solo woman traveller makes it a little bit easier for the next one!
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Oh wow, I had a similar experience in Greece and thought it was because I was traveling from a small town airport (Kalamata) in a less touristic part of the country.
Upon seeing a foreign passport in the bevy of UK passports I was told to step aside. Knowing all my visas were intact I did so without complaint and continued reading my book like nothing had happened. There was a lady of indian origin who had a New Zealand passport who was also told to step aside. I say its more of the fact that she looked indian rather than her nationality as everyone knows that one can travel more freely with a NZ passport. She had a greek guy/in-law with her and after verbally protesting and the guy speaking in greek to the check-in attendants she was let go.
After about 20 mins, one of the attendants approached me and asked the exact same questions:
Q. Why did you come to Kalamata and how long have you been here?. A. To visit a friend; 6 days
Q. Are you traveling on your own. A. Yes
Q. Why do you have just one piece of hand luggage. A. Cos I like to travel light.
They then went back to a side room and after say another 20mins, called me in. These guys had called to UK border agency to verify my visa, which I’d probably used more than 10 times in the past with no hassle. I spoke to them, and they didn’t give me any hassle. In fact I believe they had given the all clear, but these greek guys decided to delay me further. I asked them what the story was and if they were trying to get me to miss that flight so I could purchase another ticket but they replied saying they still needed to do some more checks (which were invisible to me as I didn’t see them phoning up anyone; They simply returned to checking everyone else in).
I sat down quietly and continued reading my book and when they were ready, 5 mins before the plane was to take off, they called me forward. I walked slowly and took my time through security as they tried to hurry me to catch the already delayed flight. My mantra was, if you are going to waste my time, I’m gonna show you that I can waste yours too.
I felt quite humiliated by the incident but didn’t let it show and simply ignored them and read my book throughout which kind of set them off a bit. At the end of it all, this experience shall and will not stop me from traveling and exploring the rest of the world as I so wish. I have my life to live and ignorant people aren’t worth my sweat.
That’s a praying mantis in the photo.
Glad it worked out ok in the end; I am African, living in UK (I have dual citizenship) and sometimes one does come across clueless customs staff but in my experience its not common in UK. None more clueless and pathetic however than African Americans who are terrified of being seen as African or are thrilled about how well they are seemingly perceived when some ignorant folks realise they are AA! Sad really because A. not only are you still black but, B. whats so wonderful about being ‘accepted’ by a racist asshole? If someone only treats you as a worthy human because you’re not African how pathetic and needy you must be to be ‘so grateful you aren’t African’!
I guess slavery WAS a good thing because years down the line ‘look how many privileges it has afforded the AA’s. Yay!! No need to be mistaken for one of those Africans! The pain and suffering were so totally worth it! I just need to whip out my American passport or quickly explain I am American not African and look fast their demeanor and attitudes change toward me! Score!!’
If I travel with my British passport and get more humane treatment compared to someone travelling with an African one, to me it says FAR MORE about the customs officer than it does about the African as people ought to be judged on an individual basis NOT the colour of their skin or country of origin. It is a messed up situation and shows how much insiduous damage years of slavery, racism and Jim Crow has inflicted on the AA psyche! ‘Hey, I may be black but please don’t mistake me for one of those Africans!’
Girl, I co-sign with you 100%. I never really thought of it until you spelt it out. I always used to wonder when I’d read blogs and see A.A’s gleaming over how they were treated differently for being A.A and not African. I guess one man’s meat is another man’s poison – In the U.S, I sometimes find that non-US blacks are perceived as ‘better’/ less threatening than A.A’s, whilst in Europe you sometimes see the reverse.
Either situation is fundamentally wrong as they have racial connotations underlying them and neither party need feel good about how a ‘racist’ person treated them. At the end of the day, bad behavior should be condoned and perpetrators corrected so that they can see the flaw in their thinking and judging of others. Ignoring such behaviors silently encourages the very racism we are all trying to fight.
There is only one race which is the human race. Racism is a human construct made to undermine people, strip them of their dignity and inflate an already messed up ego/psyche.
My two cents.
What an experience. Glad it turned out ok. A global entry card may have helped you avoid this….one of the many global jetsetter tips and tricks I learned about from the Nomadness Trave Tribe!
Wow, wow, wow!!
I don’t know what I would have done…geez louise. I’m so glad you made it to Rome as planned…although Rome didn’t turn out to be all that great in the end either.
~Donteacia
No, Rome was a bit of a disappointment, but I’m glad I had the experience. Now I know…that I don’t like Rome LOL. I would have expected to be more hysterical in that situation actually, but I don’t know – my calm button kicked in all of a sudden, thankfully!
OMG! Sorry to hear that happened to you. It was a miracle you were able to still make your flight. Glad you figured out why they perhaps didn’t think you were the same person in your passport photo because of….. the turban….. and the tan. smh Continue to enjoy your travels!
Glad you shared this experience. When you mentioned it in your last post, I was curious to hear more about it. In the end, seems like you took a pretty positive perspective to the experience. Was so great to read about your time in Santorini. I loved it there – it was absolutely beautiful, so it was great to travel back with you through your words. Looking forward to reading more about your adventures!
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Wow!!
Thanks for sharing this experience and how you handled it. I plan to travel alone next year and having this example will definately come to mind if I ever find myself in such a situation.
Be safe my dear!!
Seems like they were trying to rattle you and yank your chain to me. You handled it well and stayed calm glad you made your flight. Enjoy Rome
Sigh…you are not the only one that this has happened to. I’ve gotten “harassed” like this myself. I have my theories, but let’s just say that even in a “cosmopolitan” place like Europe, there are still those that questions when they see a Black woman traveling alone. Something similar happened to me in Germany, and the woman I was dealing with was shocked when I showed her an American passport. I’m glad you’re okay.
Read my latest blog post…NYC Passport Party Project 2012
Yikes! I had no idea this attitude was something to watch out for, but from now on I’m definitely on alert. I have run into a few people here in Italy who think I am from Africa. Until now, it never occurred to me that people wouldn’t think I was from the United States…even as I’m walking around the city with my afro LOL.
I can’t imagine who nerve wracking that must have been. Thank goodness it all worked out and your trip could continue as planned! Have fun in Rome!
P.S. The “praying” mantis might might have gotten you through that situation
j/k
Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry you had to go through that! I’m glad you were able to figure out how to get through to them. I’m not sure I would have been so cool-headed. Enjoy the rest of your trip, chica!
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Geesh! So glad things worked out. That story is crazy. Good thinking on your part – and the excitement to see your hair is too funny.
Btw, you were right about your omen. That’s a praying mantis!!
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Yeah, it never crossed my mind that my hair would have anything to do with anything on this trip. And clearly, I don’t know my bugs!
Peace sis, I’m sorry you had to go through that. It kind of made me upset. Glad you kept a cool head. I think that picture you posted was a preying mantis. Enjoy the rest of your journey!
-Tolu
Please pardon me for laughing in my mind. Pure comedy. Have fun in Rome.
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