TA - seven months

June 11, 2005

assport Control

Somewhere between Rome, Italy and St. Paul's Bay, Malta something unpleasant got somewhere between my front and my back. It made me sore, nauseas, and weak. I had diarrhea, headaches, and when I got to my friend Angelica's house in Malta, I had vomiting. "I'm so happy to see you," I said. "And your toilet."

I took a plane from Palermo, Italy to London yesterday. After landing and before going to baggage claim, I had to wait in line at "Passport Control". While waiting, I noticed that someone ripped off the "P" sticker from one of the desks.

I filled out immigration card before approaching the desk, answering "Occupation:" with "Question-Asker". Where am I coming from? How long will I be in London? How much money do I have in the bank? The agent, a Question-Asker himself, wanted to know all this and more.

I was clearly taking longer to pass through immigration than other travelers. "I really pay for writing down 'Question-Asker' for 'Occupation', huh" I said. The agent reread my occupation and said "That's ridiculous...The proper answer is 'unemployed'". I defended myself and quickly understood why that one desk read "assport Control".

Somewhere between now and the future is the possibility that I'll make up another Occupation on an immigration card. But I'll never stop asking questions, no matter what gets between my front and my back.

2 > post a comment

It's great to ask questions; sometimes we need a little shaking to remember what is really important in life (which doesn't include fortune or origin). Keep questioning, but also realize that the best questions in life are often unanswerable. -SC

Anonymous
June 12, 2005 9:44 PM

SC,

interesting that "fortune" and "origin" sound similar; perhaps the secret of what is really important can be found by excluding words that sound like those of unimportance? (this theory can serve as an example of why I'm unemployed.)

I've come to terms with not knowing all the answers...mostly...

tevan
June 13, 2005 2:20 PM