God Bless America

After three Attunity farewell parties and a succession of constant and often painful goodbyes, including an all-night open house that rather negated the benefits of a morning flight, Josh-bhai my dearest took me to the airport and wished me good luck and Godspeed. I thought it was a particularly good omen that the exchange desk had rupees so I could avoid the line up in Bombay.

The plane was packed with smiling youngsters off on their gap year. Some were obviously India veterans and I spotted at least two that were bringing parents to share the experience. The El Al flight attendants were especially cheerful and all in all, it was a most pleasant event.

Arrival went smoothly as well, and in no time I was in a (natural gas-powered!) air conditioned taxi that, this being India, stopped for refueling and repairs along the way. I had worn a beige fabric jacket with nice inside pockets, where I had placed my US and Israeli passports. In any case, I had secured a most coveted one-year visa in the US passport. Of course there was my well-worn great big traveler’s backpack, with the shoulder straps conveniently enclosed behind canvas and zipper. Then there was my gym bag, which I took as my carry on luggage; my first mission would be to ditch it and replace it with my Bag of Culture.

We arrived in Colaba, in swanky, touristy south Bombay. I got out of the cab and slung the jacket over the gym bag. I walked about 20 meters and realized that I should release the shoulder straps from the backpack. I put everything down. By the time my backpack was actually on my back, the jacket, with both passports was gone. Without a trace. I walked in a few circles, like a poisoned rat.

I should have felt panic. The loss of the US passport would present administrative problems, since my visa was in it, and more ominously, I had not brought any documentation definitively proving my status as an American citizen. And silly me, rather uncharacteristically, I hadn’t photocopied it, or even written down the number.

The loss of the Israeli passport in fact was the more tragic occurrence. All my life I had dreamed of having a passport with stamps on almost every page as a miniature monument to my perambulations around the globe. In that little booklet were testaments to my voyages to India, Thailand, Mexico, France, Spain, the Netherlands, Italy, Jordan and something along the order of twelve trips to Sinai. I wanted it as a keepsake. And in a moment it was gone.

Yet, in a way, it was something of a liberating experience. A clean slate. A new beginning, rather fitting for my departure from Israel.

A police car pulled up. I explained to the constables what had just happened. They took me to the station. I was treated with utmost respect as they filed the complaint and issued me with a certificate to take to my consulates.

Exhausted after two consecutive sleepless nights and the foregoing ordeal, I just found any old guest house, where I continue to lodge. The room is tiny. The bathrooms are common. But it is clean, inexpensive, in an excellent location and the staff is most helpful. So I think I’ll hang around for a while longer.

The next morning, I had a mission: the US Consulate. I made it there around 10:30. The visa line up was daunting. But I knew there was a special door for me. I found it and made my way to the consular section. I was promptly attended to by Christy.

On the strength of my Israeli driver’s license, this heroic woman invalidated the old passport and accepted my application for a new one on the spot. She brought the photographer into the room to take the requisite pictures. She was understanding and cheerful. She also provided all the information I need to sort out my visa situation at Immigration.

I hereby announce that Christy is the 2007 recipient of Skye Frontier’s Excellence in Service Award. I would also like to recommend her for the best possible promotion I can imagine: current US policy notwithstanding, as soon as I assume my role as El Presidente, Christy should be appointed forthwith as Ambassador to Cuba.

God Bless America. Long Live the Empire.