Mission: Illegal Border Crossing

The car pulled up outside the lowrise building with tinted windows. The area was deserted except for a lonely, longhaired goat meandering along the curbs, looking for grass that hadn't been singed by the sun. A slight haze hung in the air from all the dust. It was supposed to be a simple job; in and out, nobody gets hurt. Everyone knew their role. Nothing was left to chance. This was too important to screw up.

Dad, the sponsor, would do the talking. Mom, the vehicle insured owner, and son, the centerpoint of the whole operation; the son, whose ability to stay in the UAE 30 more days, hung in a slim thread depending on the mood and attitude of the officer behind the immigration counter.

Entering the double doors, the cold air hit them like a mean gust from Lake Michigan on a January day. It nearly took their breath away. Finally, composing themselves, all three moved up to the counter with a confident stride and documents in hand. They were met by two men. One, in a dish-dash with aviator mirrored sunglasses; an odd attire for an officer on duty at such an intimidating entry point. The other, wearing a usual UAE uniform in a non-distinct color that hasn't yet been named after a vegetable, fruit or flower. Simply put, it was faded green. Not olive, nor zucchini, nor sage. Just......faded green.

Speaking on behalf of the family the Dad presented the documents, passports and cash on the counter, indicating that they were going to visit Oman for the day. There was a low murmur between the two immigration officers, only interrupted by the harsh click of the stamp hitting the passport pages. Minutes later they were on the way through the gate, past the roadwork, through the next gate and headed for the Oman checkpoint. A man in a small window of a mobile trailor pointed them towards "visitors", another trailor, where again, documents, cash and passports were requested. Luckily they had brought a lot of cash. It was well known that an operation such as theirs, required a lot of mulah and patience. Any deviation from the plan and their son could end up in a stinky jail cell. His very future depended on the mom and dad carrying out this mission with utmost care. They had years of previous field training in border crossings. The mom, having dealt with the world's most intimidating and daunting security and immigration situations in Nigeria, Miami and Bangalore, was ready for anything thrown at them; The dad was an expert in diplomacy when the mom skirted the law and he was yet again prepared to take drastic measures, should this escalate to an uncomfortable scene.

So far so good. Apart from having been ripped off to the tune of $70 for exit from UAE and entry into Oman, traveling only 100 yards, the mood was upbeat and the small group could see the end of their mission.

Going down to the next round-about and returning to the opposite side of the lowrise building with tinted windows, the trio now moved with such confidence that they might actually set a record in quick round trip border crossing. But the confidence soon turned to frustration and impatience. At the counter stood two foreigners. Behind the counter sat a baffled officer. Repeatedly trying to get the passport reader to register the barcode, he was unraveling. Beads of sweat had begun forming on his large forehead and a few trickled down and dripped on to the documents in front of him. The trio sat calmly in the waiting section, watching as the officer started to pound characters on his keyboard. He then started to stamp furiously - page after page, document after document, click, click, click. To interrupt the stagnant wait, the mom walked up to the counter next to the other foreigners and took a peak across the desk. On the floor next to the officer, sat a large laundry basket. Pink. Plastic weave. Full of stamps. It's a known fact that the Emiratis are stamp happy. Now, she saw with her own eyes that it was no myth.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the trio was called up to the counter. More cash layout. More passport stamps. Nearly there....
The mom was a stickler for details; they could not afford to have any margin of error. Noticing that the son's stamp didn't specify "30 days stay" she asked the officer why. He eyed her with a confused look. Clarifying, the mom pointed out that when the son entered at Dubai airport May 17, he received a stamp stating "30 days stay" and this was why the group had embarked on the mission of crossing the border in Oman...they desparately needed to have a renewed stamp that allowed the son to stay longer. Without noticing, another officer had slowly moved nearer to the counter where the trio leaned. The two officers now started to discuss the situation - in Arabic. The word Khalas [HA_LAHS] came popping up. It means finished, done. At one point the officer slapped the passport page hard and said khalas! It became clear that the residence visa had been cancelled, rightfully so, as the son had been on a longterm mission outside the UAE for 10 months. He now needed to be leagally able to stay in the UAE until his next mission, in the US, began in August. It was dire that the officers understood the plea and that they stamped the right message in the passport!

Two more officers approached the counter. For 20 minutes they argued and discussed what to do. Finally the main officer turned to the dad and said "airport make mistake. You go to immigration office in Dubai and get new visa. Visa now cancelled, khalas, this trip never happened. You never came through here. Now go." The dad asked what would happen if they didn't get a new visa and he was met by a horrified look and reply, "this would be very, very bad, very bad!!" The trio did not argue. They had failed in their assignment but it was solely due to the usual inability of the government of Dubai to train their employees. Knowing when to duck back in the car and move on, they drove in silence, back to Dubai, to continue with their efforts of obtaining a visa for their son.

It was another 2 weeks, 3 visits to the immigration office and more cash layout before they got the stay extended to July 26. This left the question "what about July 26-Aug 1??" unanswered. Could they afford to ignore it and risk something "very very bad" ? Or would they need to return to the immigration office to plea for another 6 days? Stay tuned to the finale!

Married with Children

It was the period of big hair (supported by a large amount of hairspray) and big shoulder pads! Topping the charts were Steve Winwood, Aerosmith, White Snake and Huey Lewis. "Faith" by George Michael and “I wanna Dance with Somebody” by Whitney Houston played until you were so fed up listening that you wanted to throw out the radio. The US Dollar to the British Pound was 1.63.

Knots Landing was in full season with Val and Abbey fighting over Gary Ewing! Who’s the Boss?, the Cosby Show and Moon Lighting were the Top TV Shows and at the Box Office Wall Street, Predator, Full Metal Jacket and Dirty Dancing raked in the $$.

My wedding dress cost $39.95 at JC Penney and I had worn it two years prior at another wedding! Aric wore the same suit he had on for his graduation :)

We lived in the basement of a house we managed for the landlord and slept movingly on Aric’s waterbed! I worked for WINI radio and made $200 a week selling radio ad space.

On June 6, 1987 - 24 years ago - we decided to get married. Aric had been offered a job at Machinery Systems, in Schaumburg IL (that lasted about 3 months...I don't recall why he left, but it may have been the lure of Wall Street - not the movie but rather the whole dynamic process of making money). He started at the Chicago Mercantile Exchange on Black Tuesday in October, when everything crashed!

Yeah, those were the days, pre-kids, when we were young and carefree and had the time to work two jobs each to save up for our first house. It's been a great journey!