This story is a comedy of errors, a day where all that can go wrong did, and an experience that only being an experienced traveller gets you through. A day worth so much trouble and hassle, that only Pakistan could dole out.
We arrived in Abu Dhabi from Cairo without incident, and passed the 7 hour layover by talking with excitement about our upcoming travels in India, and our reflections on Egypt. Although we saw some unique things, we were a bit relieved to leave “The Great Egyptian Hustle” behind. Our next flight was from Abu Dhabi to Karachi, which would put us on the ground in Pakistan at nearly 5 AM, where we were to try and explain why our single entry visa had already been stamped for exit, collect our baggage, and board our plane to Delhi at 11 AM.
After a sleepless flight we landed in Karachi, red eyed and exhausted, and made our case to the customs officer. With some hesitation, he escorted us to retrieve our bags, and led us back through customs, up an elevator, and down the length of the airport to the check in counter. As we attempted to check in, the look of confusion on the airline representatives faces was a bad omen. It turned out that there was no flight leaving to Delhi on that airline until the 16th, two days later, and the travel agent had basically booked us on a flight that did not exist. So there we were in Pakistan at 6 AM, stranded without a visa, and with no food or sleep to help us navigate the mess. Brady attempted to talk to American Express Travel, who had booked the flights, but they were more interested in wanting to know why we were in Pakistan than they were in helping us get the hell out of there. They left us totally high and dry, in Pakistan of all places, so we discussed our escape options.
After about 6 airport officials and customs agents passed our dilemma off to someone else, one angel of a man took charge. He escorted us back down the elevators, and to customs to see if they would issue us a two day visa, but to no avail. None of them could see past the fact that our visas were already stamped for exit, and would offer no help. So the only other option was to book a new flight from Karachi to Lahore, our old stomping grounds, then fly from Lahore to Delhi. All of this proposed domestic travel was also to be done without a Pakistan visa, under the guise of being in transit.
The flight for Lahore left in 20 minutes, so we rushed back through customs, up the elevators, down to the ticketing office, bought the new tickets, went back through security, and back through customs. On the way out the glass door at customs, Brady’s trolley caught the inch thick glass and shattered it, making a sickening pop that sucked the air right out of the Pakistani terminal. A door not easily replaced in Karachi, Pakistan, we managed to escape before the guillotine dropped.
We kept asking our helpful man, “Are the bags going to make it onto the flight?” And he kept saying “Inshallah!” (God willing). Those words were hardly comforting, but I guess it all was in God’s hands, as well as the hands of the baggage throwers. They gave our passports to the flight crew, and made us fill out some paper work to prove that we were indeed in transit, and had been under close supervision the whole time. We landed in Lahore, and made it through customs without much of an incident. It was a pretty convincing argument to show the customs agent our boarding passes to India, and say “Just let us go to India and you won’t have to deal with us again!”
I cannot describe to you the relief that I felt arriving at the gate for our flight to Delhi, or how good the tea tasted as we waited to board the plane. My short lived relationship with Pakistan was intense and passionate, though dangerous and rocky at times, but brought me closer to understanding the world we live in, carving a place in my heart for the people that I met while there. As I will never forget the experience, I was as ready as one can be to move on to the next beauty in the form of India. Namaste Hindustan…
