Second look: We were flying out of the Livingstone Airport in Zambia with our grandson. He was twelve at the time. We had a list of items that we needed to get through security with him. We passed this list to his parents and they said it was all set. That was a mistake. In Paris they needed his birth certificate and we had to call the U.S. and have a photograph of it sent to us in Paris. Made a copy. OK. In Zambia they wanted copies of his parents passports. We were led from the very pretty terminal to a concrete block building. In a room that resembled scenes from some movie about Nazi prison camps, we struggled to get copies texted to us of needed documents. This was a strain as the time for our flight grew closer and closer.
I will say that our grandson was very much the cool and calmer of the three of us. He knew we would not get stuck in Zambia or worse.
Since that day, we have made sure we had all the right credentials.
No comments:
Post a Comment