I had to fly out of Puerto Plata since I was staying in Cabarete and everything went smooth until it was time to get on the plane. All of a sudden one of the workers asks for my documentation and stares and stares. He starts passing it around to the other workers and is compared to another customers' passport. They stare and say, "See? The stamps are different."There is confusion all around and I am bombarded with questions.
"Where did you land?" Santo Domingo.
What's the name of the airport?" Las Americas.
"No, you flew in to Santiago! Look at the stamp!"
"How long have you been here?" 10 days.
Where were you born? Who did you come to see?
The staring continues and the stamps on the passport are analized, deemed suspicious.
"You don't have any other ID?" I don't need any other ID. The passport according to international flight protocol is sufficient for me to get on the plane and you know it.
"Vamonos. Get his bags off the plane and take him downstairs!"
He then asks for my driver's license again. I did'nt bring it as I was under the impression that my passport is sufficient ID to get on any international flight. I had my school ID and employment ID but they were deemed invalid.
I am then informed that my baggage was being taken off the plane and had to be escorted to some capitans' office. I asked the escort in a friendly manner is there anything wrong with my documentaion. He totally ignores me, so I just kept quiet and hoped for the best. I am already resigned to the fact that I have been pulled off the flight, as when we pass the AA clerk at the front desk my escort tells her "take him off the flight".
The "capitan" is exactly as I imagined him to be. A surly, curt demeanor with a uniform and appearance of a third world dictator. I am requested to appear in front of him and am hit with a barrage of questions.
Who did I see here? What are their names? Where do they live? What hotel did I stay at? Why? Where was I born? Where do I live at home? How many ways to get to New Jersey from New York?
Then my place of birth was called into question and why the passport was issued in New York City instead of the country of my birth. I explained as best I could knowing if these guys felt like it they could easily plant something in my bag and arrest me for trafficking. Dominican jail here I come.
The last question that stumped me was the calle 95 question. "En Nueva York, que significa calle 95?" I said it was a street that ran in Manhattan from the east side of manhattan to the wes-CUT OFF. "No! If you want to get to Miami, how do you get there by car? I don't know. "What highway cuts across the United States?" I don't know. I've never been to Miami by car. The only highway I know of that cuts across some of the US is Route 66.
The capitan is staring at my passport photo and staring at me. I stare right back at him so that he notices that I am not trying to avoid his glare.
"Why are your eyes a different color from the photo in your document? Do you wear colored contact lenses? Is this picture you?" The photo is a bad one, sir.
He finally lets me go. My escort then tells me to hurry up, as the plane is about to leave.
I'm running through the airport and the band sees me and starts playing again, this time only for me. I get to my flight and the workers are all waving at me to hurry up. This is when I change my stride to a casual stroll. They pulled me off for no reason, they"ll have to wait for me now.
Now I am stopped right at the entrance to the plane to get my bag checked thoroughly. Again. I am asked to take my boots off and am given the wand treatment to see if I am carrying any metal objects for the second time. The guy tells me to tie my boots on the plane. I tell him no. I am walking onto the plane as I originally arrived, like a gentleman and not some dishevelved stumblebum.
To top it all off, one of the workers is smiling at me and says, "No problem. How about a little something for a beer?" I then lose it. I turned around and said, "Tu no tienes madre. Este pais es lleno de ladrones y putas. Que orgullo ser dominicano, ah?"
I know it was rude as hell, but I lost my temper. I have been to the DR 4 times, Costa Rica and Mexico once each time in the last year. Why all of a sudden was my passport suspect? Well, of course nobody told me why. The plane leaves and the rest of the flight home was uneventful.
"Where did you land?" Santo Domingo.
What's the name of the airport?" Las Americas.
"No, you flew in to Santiago! Look at the stamp!"
"How long have you been here?" 10 days.
Where were you born? Who did you come to see?
The staring continues and the stamps on the passport are analized, deemed suspicious.
"You don't have any other ID?" I don't need any other ID. The passport according to international flight protocol is sufficient for me to get on the plane and you know it.
"Vamonos. Get his bags off the plane and take him downstairs!"
He then asks for my driver's license again. I did'nt bring it as I was under the impression that my passport is sufficient ID to get on any international flight. I had my school ID and employment ID but they were deemed invalid.
I am then informed that my baggage was being taken off the plane and had to be escorted to some capitans' office. I asked the escort in a friendly manner is there anything wrong with my documentaion. He totally ignores me, so I just kept quiet and hoped for the best. I am already resigned to the fact that I have been pulled off the flight, as when we pass the AA clerk at the front desk my escort tells her "take him off the flight".
The "capitan" is exactly as I imagined him to be. A surly, curt demeanor with a uniform and appearance of a third world dictator. I am requested to appear in front of him and am hit with a barrage of questions.
Who did I see here? What are their names? Where do they live? What hotel did I stay at? Why? Where was I born? Where do I live at home? How many ways to get to New Jersey from New York?
Then my place of birth was called into question and why the passport was issued in New York City instead of the country of my birth. I explained as best I could knowing if these guys felt like it they could easily plant something in my bag and arrest me for trafficking. Dominican jail here I come.
The last question that stumped me was the calle 95 question. "En Nueva York, que significa calle 95?" I said it was a street that ran in Manhattan from the east side of manhattan to the wes-CUT OFF. "No! If you want to get to Miami, how do you get there by car? I don't know. "What highway cuts across the United States?" I don't know. I've never been to Miami by car. The only highway I know of that cuts across some of the US is Route 66.
The capitan is staring at my passport photo and staring at me. I stare right back at him so that he notices that I am not trying to avoid his glare.
"Why are your eyes a different color from the photo in your document? Do you wear colored contact lenses? Is this picture you?" The photo is a bad one, sir.
He finally lets me go. My escort then tells me to hurry up, as the plane is about to leave.
I'm running through the airport and the band sees me and starts playing again, this time only for me. I get to my flight and the workers are all waving at me to hurry up. This is when I change my stride to a casual stroll. They pulled me off for no reason, they"ll have to wait for me now.
Now I am stopped right at the entrance to the plane to get my bag checked thoroughly. Again. I am asked to take my boots off and am given the wand treatment to see if I am carrying any metal objects for the second time. The guy tells me to tie my boots on the plane. I tell him no. I am walking onto the plane as I originally arrived, like a gentleman and not some dishevelved stumblebum.
To top it all off, one of the workers is smiling at me and says, "No problem. How about a little something for a beer?" I then lose it. I turned around and said, "Tu no tienes madre. Este pais es lleno de ladrones y putas. Que orgullo ser dominicano, ah?"
I know it was rude as hell, but I lost my temper. I have been to the DR 4 times, Costa Rica and Mexico once each time in the last year. Why all of a sudden was my passport suspect? Well, of course nobody told me why. The plane leaves and the rest of the flight home was uneventful.
