Illegal? No, no, no, I'm British!

Getting a visa for Russia is not a straight forward procedure at all, especially after the online registration was introduced during the summer. Luckily I had the help of a joint Russian and Norwegian commerce chamber to help me. They arranged all the documents I needed and helped with the online stuff too. I received my passport back, complete with Russian visa, just before I had to travel to Russia. Along with some colleagues I was to attend our stand at a very large exhibition in St. Petersburg. The final leg of my journey was from Stockholm to St Petersburg, flying with SAS. They checked my visa before boarding and saw no reason to stop me boarding.

After landing in St Petersburg I made my way to Passport Control and then the sweating started. You know something is wrong when the woman checking your passport starts calling people and scanning every page of your passport. After five minutes of watching her frantically scanning and typing, a uniformed man in a large hat turned up, took my passport off the lady, looked at me and said, “Follow me.”

I followed. He led me off to an office where a man in civilian clothes told me to sit down and took the passport off the officer with the big hat. The Big Hat disappeared and the man with my passport went behind a glass partition and began calling people. I waited for him to put the phone down and asked out loud what was wrong. The man stood up, came back around the partition and informed me that my visa was no good. He also informed me that the problem would take a while because people were now away at lunch. I still had my phone so I called the person who arranged my visa………..she was at lunch too. The sweating continued.

After constantly trying my call was answered and I spoke to the lady who had arranged my visa. She offered to speak to the officer behind the glass wall to find out what was wrong and how we could fix this problem. I got the officer’s attention and handed him the phone. I don’t speak much Russian but the word for no “Nyet” I do understand. He was saying Nyet…. a lot. After about five minutes of talking he handed me back my phone. The lady on the phone told me about the visa having the wrong dates and that they were trying to contact SAS to take me home again. Alternatively, they would make me wait two days, when my visa would become valid, and they would let me in. “Where would I stay for two days?” I asked.

The officer pointed to the floor above us and said “Cells.”

That was not an option for me. The sweating increased. I began frantically searching the internet for any airline leaving St Petersburg that afternoon. Before I could do much research Big Hat was back to take me away. He led me off to the detention area and told me, “You wait here with other illegals.” The other “illegals” were a dark haired local with tattooed knuckles and a unibrow sitting beside a very nervous looking African chap who appeared to be sweating more than me.  Before the guard left me I tried to tell him, “I can’t be illegal, I’m British!” That did not impress him, so in I went. Now I had to choose who I would sit next to, Oleg the local or the nervous Nigerian. Oleg kept staring at me like a lion does when finally finding the overweight antelope with a limp and cholesterol issues. However, sitting next to the other chap did nothing for his nerves or mine. None of us spoke but Oleg kept staring. I pulled out my phone and kept looking for a flight home.

Unfortunately, so much time had already passed that the SAS flight I arrived upon had already departed again. There were no other SAS flights that day. It was find another flight or spend a night in detention and risk becoming the love slave of Oleg the Twelve Inch. Luckily, KLM had a flight leaving in two hours back to Amsterdam. I called our travel agent and asked them to get me on that KLM flight. I was in luck, there was one seat left.

“Book it!” I squealed excitedly.

After several agonizing minutes the travel agent confirmed the seat had been booked. I was still sweating. I checked in online via the KLM app on my phone. Now I had to get my passport back and get on that plane. I began shouting at a cleaning lady to get her attention, she spoke very little English but she did go and get Big Hat. He told me I just had to wait and SAS would come and talk to me. He was not interested that I was booked on KLM and did not need SAS. Aaaaargh! This was not good. Big Hat walked away. I was dripping now.

About ten minutes later another guard, also with a big hat, was passing so I got his attention. He seemed keen to try his English and we got talking. Instead of begging for help I decide to try general chit chat to start with. It turns out he was a Chelsea fan and was delighted that I was too. I would have been a fan of any team he supported if it was necessary! He agreed to find out what was happening for me. He understood that I was booked on the next KLM flight and I just needed my passport. Ten minutes later he reappeared with the SAS representative. He confirmed that I had been booked on the next KLM flight and that the guards would come back and get me when it was time to board. Relief swept over me and for a moment, just a moment though, the sweating stopped. I say “just for a moment” because then two men turned up and took me away. One was big Hat and the other I had not seen before. They led me into a room with a video camera and stood me in front of it. Whilst Big Hat started the camera and found a sheet of paper I asked the other guy who he was. “Interpreter.” He simply replied.

Big Hat, in a very official voice, began to read aloud what was on the piece of paper and did not stop until he had read it all to me, which was quite a considerable amount. I was sweating again. I turned to the interpreter and he said, “ You broke law, not good.” The sweating increased. My look flashed between him and Big Hat hoping to understand more when the interpreter said, “Sign paper!” Big Hat had put the document down on the table with a pen.

“It is in Russian and I cannot read that. What does it say?” I asked.

“You broke law” he replied.

This was going nowhere. More importantly I was not going anywhere.

“OK” I said, “If I sign this will they let me get on the KLM flight?”

“Yes.” Said the interpreter. “Also, will not fine you. Normal pay fine, two thousand Rubles but no, you no have to pay.”

I signed.

I was returned to detention. A few minutes later Chelsea Big Hat came to see me and asked me if I liked coffee. I didn’t feel it was the time to tell him I was a tea drinker. ”I love coffee!” I answered him.

He told me to bring my bags, took me through some doors, processed me and my bags through the security checks and took me on a date to Starbucks in the departure lounge. Needless to say I offered to buy. Unaware that the KLM flight was leaving in about thirty minutes I ordered us two big coffee mochas. As I was handed the coffees an announcement was made for all KLM passengers to go to the gate. That is the fastest I have ever drank a large Starbuck’s coffee…..and it burned. Chelsea Big Hat stood up and said “I get passport, wait here.” Off he wandered whilst I gulped coffee. The information sign started flashing “Boarding” beside the KLM flight number. It seemed an eternity before Chelsea Big Hat returned. With my uniformed guard holding my passport and boarding card we set off for the KLM flight gate. On the way I suddenly needed the toilet and informed my minder. He directed me to a handicap toilet and stood guard outside. After a few minutes he banged on the door shouting for me to hurry up but the combination of excessive nerves, heavy sweating and a super-sized coffee had caused a “wipemare”. I just could not wipe enough. Where was it all coming from? The banging on the door was not helping. With an arse raw from all the wiping I dressed in a hurry and emerged flustered and sweating more than ever

When we arrived at the gate, the queue to board was still big and everyone turned to stare at me and my escort. People were looking at me up and down and making quiet comments to each other. Chelsea Big Hat waited until everyone was on board, then he took me forward and handed in my boarding card to the KLM staff. They scanned it and handed it back to me and welcomed me to board. As the last person to board, complete with a uniformed escort, everyone stared at me as I entered the plane. What was wrong with these people? Don’t they know it is rude to stare? As I approached my seat, near the front of the plane, I asked the man in the aisle seat 3C to move because I needed to get to 3B. It was now I realized why everyone was staring. Still sitting, he pointed to my crotch and said, “Zip undone.”

What a day.