Out of time, out of mind
Jamie Morton has airport woes — but he only has himself to blame
I’ve always hated airports — and airports have always hated me. Never mind dental clinics, hospitals or courthouses; airports are the only places I know that induce bonafide, arm-scratching, cold-sweat fear and loathing. And that’s not just because they’ve slowly morphed into nightmarish mega-malls with over-priced lager and giant Bulgari wall displays.
But because one simple mis-step can kill your dream holiday, see you stranded on the other side of the planet and put you thousands of dollars out of pocket.
I once missed a flight from Heathrow after misreading my check-in time in a London fog of strep-throat fever. I can cite numerous other near catastrophes. There was the luggage an airline erroneously checked only as far as Bangkok, resulting in a horrific 45-minute dash through Customs to the carousel and back to the departure gate, just as boarding was about to close.
There have been bureaucratic bungles with visa documentation; flight numbers and boarding gates mysteriously changing without warning; delayed take-offs compounded by nearimpossible connections; power-tripping border officials; terminal evacuations; bizarre sickness checks; hideously long security queues; and “airport fees” later found to be straight-up corruption.
When it all does go wrong, the only consolation you get is the polite pity of a stranger at a check-in desk who, more often than not, can’t and won’t help you. To them, you’re an unfortunate number amid a sea of numbers. Bad luck, sorry, move aside, next please. On my latest trip I had a sense of dread that was much more intense than my usual pre-travel anxiety. I’d checked I had my passport, ensured I arrived at the airport in good time, and even phoned the airline on the morning to confirm the flight was scheduled correctly.
When I dropped my luggage at check-in, I took a deep breath and assured myself it was just the same old airport jitters. The attendant even asked whether I wanted a window seat. So far, so good. Then came her next question: did I have another passport? And there it was — the source of my underlying consternation, finally revealed. Flash back a couple of months.
When my flight was booked by the hosts of a short conference I’d been due to attend in Malaysia, I wasn’t alerted to the fact that my passport would be just inside that cursed sixmonth expiry window on my day of travel. “I’m sorry sir, but you can’t fly today,” said the stranger at the check-in desk, in polite pity.
When the realisation that my passport was effectively invalid sunk in, I skipped the shock part and went straight to feeling like the disorganised idiot I truly was. I stood there feeling like the kid who comes to school wearing his full uniform on mufti day.
Admittedly, I’d known my passport was due to expire in the relative near future, but at the time the trip was planned, hadn’t thought to check exactly when. The months sped by and the issue didn’t occur to me until it was too late, one afternoon at the Malaysia Airlines check-in desk, at Zone E of Auckland International Airport.
I proceeded back to Park ‘N Fly and picked my car up, six days early.
Many other people — quite reasonably so — might even be unaware that so-called five-year passports are only actually good for four and a half, because of the fact most countries don’t let you travel on them in that last six months. Which is why many travellers saw the recent reintroduction of 10-year passports as a great wrong, finally righted. Granted, there are obvious reasons why nations don’t allow you to travel on soon-to-expire passports, but, as someone else has argued before, do they turn you away at the gym when your membership is six months away from expiring?
If you do get caught out when it’s too late — as I did — your options will be extremely limited. You’ll miss your flight — and the connecting flights and hotel bookings after that. The nice people at New Zealand Passports will tell you they can get an express replacement for you, but it will take around three working days, and cost you $360, twice the normal fee.
There are some countries you might choose to travel to instead that don’t have the six-month rule — Australia being one — but most do. That includes the US, European countries in the Schengen Treaty, China, Thailand, Vietnam, Tonga and Vanuatu. Other countries have smaller windows, but still have laws meaning you can’t travel right up to the date of your passport expiry.
One recommendation is to check with the country you’re planning to visit before you go. A more obvious one is not to take the risk and get your passport renewed immediately, if it’s anywhere near expiry. Though airports are evil, unforgiving places that conspire against you — and they do — this was advice I wish someone had given me.