As I mentioned in Tuesday’s post about Australia, the beggar was the second person in Australia to mistake me for a local. The first time it happened was at the airport. Okay, the place is full of white people, so that’s not so unusual.
What was unusual was that the person mistaking me for an Aussie was the guy at immigration.
Right after I’d handed him my passport.
Now, I know it was early in the morning and all, but come the fuck on! If your job is screening who is getting into your country, don’t you think you should at least look at the fucking passport?I’d handed him my passport and immigration card, then waiting for the usual “how long will you be here…” immigration questions, but what I got was:
“How was your trip?”
Not, “how was your flight?” Okay, maybe that was just some sort of Oz-speak, but it still threw me. So I replied, “I’m not sure yet. It’s just getting started.”
He gave me a weird look and flipped back to the cover of my passport.
“Oh! A Yank.”
Yeah, a Yank….
Well met Australia! Your borders are in good hands.