Traveling “Dids” and “Never Do Agains”

Published March 6, 2007

By Nicole Vincent-Roller

World-traveler and idiot extraordinaire, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things while heading out of the US of A. So, to prepare you for your spring break (or make you feel a bit better about not going anywhere), I’m going to share with you just a couple of the dumber things I’ve ever done traveling. Hopefully, you can learn from my mistakes.

Getting Out and Back: Do you know where YOUR passport is?

I was halfway to Logan International Airport and seven hours from the beckoning beaches of Bermuda when my nagging sister asked me whether or not I had my passport for the umpteenth time. As per every other time she had asked, I pulled the little battered blue book out of my purse and waved it smugly in her face.

I opened the book to once again feel a rush of embarrassment upon seeing my mug-shot passport photo of me looking like Quasi Modo. Instead, I was met with the beaming face of myself as a nine-year-old, pre-Quasi Modo. Breaks screeched, we reversed direction, and we skipped dinner before the flight.

That day, I flew to Bermuda with my social security card, my birth certificate, my driver’s license, and a few Hail Maries full of grace. As of January 23, 2007, this is no longer an option. All persons traveling by air from the United States to Canada, Mexico, Central and South American, the Caribbean and Bermuda MUST be able to present a valid passport at the airport in order to leave the country (let alone get back into it).

It’s already too late to get a new passport processed, but you still have time to tear your house apart looking for the one you already have. Otherwise, have fun convincing your parents to let you turn the heat up to eighty-five so you can get some use out of that new sundress.

Laws and Rights: The world’s a scary place for suckers

Stuck in Milan for a day between train rides, I was minding my own business on a park bench when I was approached by an official-looking man with a badge. He flashed it quickly and then said something in fast Italian. With my own Italian limited to “buongiorno,” “grazie,” “scusi,” and, of course, “ciao bella,” I fumbled a bit and showed him my passport, hoping that would suffice.

He smiled, shook his head, and continued speaking in Italian. Since my incomprehension persisted, he indicated that it was necessary for me to go with him in his car. I was so busy wondering what I had done and what papers I was missing, how my parents could get me bail (or if they even do bail in Italy) that I didn’t wonder about the fact that I was getting into an unmarked car.

About ten minutes, five miles, one humiliating suggestion mimed to me by my captor and one insistent refusal (read slap) later, I was running toward the nearest metro station, terrified, indignant, but mostly embarrassed by my own stupidity. I didn’t know what my rights were and that compounded by the language barrier, led me to put myself in an extremely compromised situation. Don’t do the same.

Go to http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/ to read up on your destination, and to http://www.unodc.org/unodc/legal_library/index-countries.html to find out whether or not you can get the death penalty for smoking a joint (anyone vacationing in Pakistan?) and research your rights. Ignorance isn’t a defense, in a court of law or in a creepy Italian guy’s car.

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