(My wife and child are going to a family wedding on her side in San Francisco. I can’t go due to work commitments. My wife never took my name after we got married, but my daughter has my surname. We were all born and raised in the UK but we are of Indian descent. When they reach passport control, the lady checks the passports:)

Border Control: “Has your daughter taken your husband’s name?”

Wife: “Yes, she has.”

Border Control: “Do you have the birth certificate with you to show the child is yours?”

Wife: “No, that has never been an issue before.”

Border Control: “Oh, didn’t they ask you for this when you left Pakistan?”

Wife: *rather coldly* “No, we actually came from the UK, and they said nothing.”

(The border control officer goes sheepish and mumbles an apology.)

(I am a station agent for a big airline and we have an airbus to Chicago every morning. If the plane is full enough, passengers in groups three and four have to check their bags to their final destination. I check in the bags in the reservation system, which requires a lot of coding and input. As I’m in my own little world, the fourth passenger and his wife approach the desk.)

Customer: “I don’t understand why I have to check in my carry-on to go to my final destination. If I paid for a seat, I should be able to get my bag on the plane with me.”

Customer’s Wife: “It’s not his fault that you have to check in your bag.” *walks away, embarrassed*

Customer: “Well, you don’t seem to care, anyway.”

Me: “Excuse me, sir? Who said I didn’t care? Also, to be frank, if you were really concerned about your bag making it onto the plane, you should have paid the extra $30 to get Priority Boarding.”

(I am traveling by air for my sister’s wedding. This scenario keeps happening.)

Airline: *over intercom* “Paging passenger [Passenger]. Passenger [Passenger], your flight is being held for you. Please check in immediately.”

(This message is repeated several times, in several different ways.)

Passenger: *sitting literally two feet from the speaker, not wearing headphones or anything, goes to check in*

Me: “What? Are these people like, ‘Oh, hey, that’s my name! The name I’ve had my whole life!’ It’s not even for our flight, but it’s driving me crazy.”

(I have so much respect for airline employees!)

Related:
Named And Shamed, Part 8
Named And Shamed, Part 7
Named And Shamed, Part 6
Named And Shamed, Part 5
Named And Shamed, Part 4

(We are in the bus bringing us to our plane when the sky suddenly turns dark and a thunderstorm appears out of nowhere. Forty-five minutes later, all flights are grounded, and I’m first in line waiting at the door to exit the aircraft. One of the young pilots opens the cockpit door, cautiously peeks out, mutters yet another apology, and apparently estimates his chances of survival in the mostly angry mob.)

Me: *feeling pity* “Thank you for not departing in these conditions! We are lucky to be in a part of the world where severe weather is actually considered for safety.”

Pilot: “I apologize…” *surprised* “Wait, what? You are not blaming me? Wow, this is a first. Thank you!”

Me: “Sure, there are idiots, but aren’t plenty of people thankful for not having their lives risked?”

(The flight attendant at the door emphatically shakes her head.)

Pilot: “You have no idea. For the next hour I’m going to be screamed at by at least 30 of the people behind you; the rest will threateningly glare at me, as if all this was my fault alone. Thank you so much for understanding. I’ll gladly remember your reaction.”

(Our subsequent trip was shortened by a day, and we lost our luggage for four days. Still, this was preferable to finding out whether we would have been struck by lightning.)

(I am in the screening line for an international flight, LONG before 9/11. A little old lady goes through a metal detector, and sets off fourteen different kinds of alarms. She walks on as if nothing happened. The security guard looks at her and shrugs, shakes his head, and waves me to go through the metal detector. I pass with no alarms, and quickly catch up with the little old lady.)

Little Old Lady: *with a big smile* “Humph! He didn’t think I could be a terrorist, did he?!”