(I have been on holiday with my parents in Russia. We are now catching our flight home so obviously, we have to pass through border control. Although I am in my late twenties, I am baby-faced and quite short, and I dress very casually. A number of people we’ve met have assumed I am around 14 to 16, something we’ve found quite amusing. Until…)
Border control: “Passport.”
(I go first and hand over my passport. The officer looks at me, at my passport, and back at me. He frowns. He looks at my other documents and back at me, and then frowns again. He then reaches for a magnifying glass and begins to inspect my documents page by page, occasionally pausing to stare at me. My father goes through in about thirty seconds. My mother goes through after a minute or so, as she has to answer a few questions. I wait. And wait. And wait. After about five minutes, I see my parents poking their heads around to see if they’ve lost me. Another minute or two later, and I’m finally allowed through.)
Mum: “We thought we’d never see you again!”
Dad: “Come on, delinquent.”
Me: “Was it just me or did he keep me there for a really long time? I got really nervous; I thought he was never going to let me through.”
Dad: “Did he ask you any questions?”
Me: “No. I thought maybe he might ask me to take my glasses off, but…”
Mum: “You realise he thought your documents were fake, right? I could tell when I was stood next to you. He couldn’t put the teenage girl in front of him together with the 27-year-old woman your documents suggested you were.”
Me: “I have no idea. But at one point, someone else came into the booth and I thought, oh, God, I’m about to be arrested at Russian border control. But the other guy just wanted to unlock something.”
Mum: “You thought you were going to be arrested? He saw you with us. I was waiting for them to arrest us for child trafficking and was debating making a run for it.”
Me: “Thanks.”
