MY LUFTMARE

A Traveler Encounters an Un-crossable Barrier in Frankfurt

by STEPHEN DUCLOS, senior global correspondent

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When we travel internationally, we usually concentrate on passports, visas, impending lack of sleep, and possible diarrhea. And so when I was to make what would be my final return trip to Russia in 2004, I thought I had all eventualities covered. What I would find to my detriment, however, were incompetent immigration officials in the country that produces the world’s finest motor vehicles.

I left Russia with visa in hand – all in order. After having spent a few years there, it seemed they wanted me to stay. So I procured, at the state’s demand, a combination exit visa with a one-time re-entry visa – all on the same piece of paper.

When I went through passport control at Moscow Sheremetyevo airport, one piece of my visa was removed, as is the usual case, and a bunch of stamps were indiscriminately pounded onto the remaining visa, which was the re-entry portion – blam, blam, blam!

The rest of this journey went surprisingly well and without incident – without incident until Deutschland t.

For the return flight a couple of months later, I was to fly on United Airlines and then connect in Frankfurt on Lufthansa Airlines for the final leg to Novosibirsk, Russia. Even though it was not United’s responsibility, they inspected my visa at San Francisco before checking my bags. There was obviously no need for this check since Russia had issued this visa two months prior, but rules are rules no matter how anal they may seem.

Frankfurt is an extremely busy airport and was built with first class flair. It seemed like the center of the world with flights to absolutely everywhere on earth. So, quite understandably, it is Lufthansa’s main base.

It took some time, but I found my gate just in time for boarding. When I handed the agent my documents – boarding pass, passport, and visa – she looked at the visa in a manner of confusion and told me I could not board the airplane because my visa was not valid. Now, this woman was an “inspector of international documents,” hired by Lufthansa. Apparently, Russia had refused entry to many of Lufthansa’s passengers in the past and forced the carrier to return them to their departure point, so now Lufthansa was responsible for the identification of improper visas into Russia. This is the excuse I was given; although, I didn’t believe it for a second. In Russia, if you have a problem with your documents, it’s your own problem and nobody else’s. The state is not about to make life easy for anyone – at least for anyone residing outside the walls surrounding Red Square. It was abundantly clear that this dullard didn’t understand Russian visas at all, so I pointed out to her that it was simply an entry visa and that the missing page was the exit part of the visa that had been torn out when I exited Russia. She then went on to comment about all the stamps on the visa to which I replied, “It’s nothing; in Russia, they simply go a little crazy with their stamps, but it clearly says in Russian, ‘Re-entry Visa.’”

My explanation wasn’t good enough for her, so she directed me to a Lufthansa boarding agent at the podium next to her while continuing to deny me entry.

The boarding agent then told me in a very matter-of-fact way that he would have someone retrieve my checked bag and that I would not be going on this flight. He then started questioning me about my visa and I basically told him the same as I had told his “inspector of international documents.” By now I was starting to feel a bit heated with all the incompetence at the gate, so my speech started to reflect my feelings – just ever so slightly. This jerk, while keeping me stranded in Frankfurt, had the audacity to say to me, “Let’s be polite.” I responded by telling him, “To hell with politeness! You don’t understand Russian visas at all, you’re denying me boarding on the flight I have paid for, and you have the gall to talk about politeness!”

This guy was very methodical – as Germans tend to be. He wasn’t about to give even one millimeter. He then called a couple of Lufthansa customer-service girls to escort me to an operations office to resolve the mess.

Once inside this office, which was just behind one of what seemed to be hundreds of Lufthansa check-in counters, a seemingly very pleasant German woman listened to my sad tale of woe and then offered her phone for as many international calls as necessary. She then presented me with a food voucher for the outrageously-expensive food court that lurked close by.

While calling Russia to advise me on my situation – people meeting me at the airport in Novosibirsk were now forced to change their plans as well. It was suggested to me that Aeroflot Russian Airlines probably had flights in and out of Frankfurt. I asked the Lufthansa woman about this and she said they did, and directed me to the Aeroflot counter with the understanding that Lufthansa would pay for my ticket on Aeroflot, should the carrier allow me onboard.

After showing the Aeroflot agent my visa, she said, “Of course this visa is valid, but I will check with my supervisor, just to be sure.” After about twenty minutes, she returned and then sold me – or should I say, “She sold Lufthansa” a ticket. The only catch was that this flight had already departed and the next one wasn’t until the following day. I knew I could count on Aeroflot to understand; it was just like being back home again.

I then returned to the Lufthansa office – which was now occupied by a different woman, as the first one had finished her shift – and explained the whole sorted affair yet again. She seemed to understand and even gave me a tip on which hotel would be the least expensive, as I was going to have to spend the night in the city of the Frankfurters. But even though she understood that Lufthansa had made a mistake – she mentioned that Lufthansa had made similar mistakes in the past – she refused to foot the bill for the hotel.

The next morning I waited for the elevator from the second floor to the hotel lobby only because I was dragging along a bag that didn’t do well on stairs. When the lift stopped and the doors opened, a guy was standing inside, permeating it with his cigarette smoke. I immediately turned away and took the stairs. As I was waiting outside the lobby for the van to the airport – the same guy was now polluting the first floor. He got into a cab, lit up another cigarette, and off he went giving the poor cabbie a dose of lung cancer by proxy. It then occurred to me in its entirety: “Oh yes, I’m in Deutschland.”

A couple of weeks after my return flight to Russia, the demand for hotel compensation in my e-mail to Lufthansa was denied.

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Is there an agenda here? Possibly so.

Will Lufthansa ever be revisited by this author? Absolutely not.