11 MAR - 12 MAR 2011
There's a couple of fundamental truths that you always carry around with yourself as a business analyst. At the start of any project you really need to define what the hell it is that you're doing, the purpose of the project and whether the purpose for which your time is being utilised is really at all fundamental to the overall strategy of the business. Then when you actually get to the point where you realise that the project is in play and you progress to nutting out what the requirements are and strictly defining them, your objective is to make sure that the requirements are clear, specific, measurable and valuable to the project outcome. If you do this successfully at the start of a project then aside from the inevitable road blocks and the occasional twist and turn that you'll encounter you should be in a 'der, winning' position. Then however there's the path that I more often than not chose, the lackadaisical, casual position where I accepted most any requirement on the proviso that people would stop whining to me about their pathetic lives. This was and is a problem. Over time as the cone of uncertainty widens you realise that the end game result of your lack of interest will come at a price and you will be subject to burning questions of your own self realisation and harsh accussations by the business. Questions such as what the hell is it that I'm doing and where did all that money go are not what you ever want to hear. As we crossed the border in Tijuana a few weeks earlier I had both the devil business analyst and the angelic business analyst fighting it out on my shoulders for supremacy.
Leaving Hostal Regina on what should have been our last day - Mexico City - Mexico
Hostal Regina - Mexico City - Mexico
The trigger point for the DEFCON 5 alert that went off in my head was the moment that we stepped off the bus and started walking down a poorly lit alley to the smokey, buzzing and slightly shady streets of TJ. I stopped perhaps 50 metres away from the turnstile like gate that signalled the frontier and commented to Frichot, 'Hey, we don't have an entry stamp, nor do we even know if we require a visa, we should probably ask someone'. So we turned on our heels and marched back to the border post that seemed to be suprisingly fluid in terms of their tolerance for the free and easy movement of people across the border. We did however manage to find an immigration official after several minutes and in turn asked him of our requirements. As the guy took a swig from his tequila bottle and spoke to us in that inimitable Mexican style, with its cantering rhythm and low drawn rumble on any word that contained an 'r' he explained the following. For Tijuana no entry stamp or visa was required but for travel further afield we would need a tourist visa which could be acquired at a cost of 220 pesos, the equivalent of $18AUD. Quickly processing the information I decided that the visa wouldn't be worthwhile and as silly as it may sound I had perfect reasoning. At the time our travels plans had us enterining TJ and then leaving back for LA in several days time in order to fly across the country to New York, also, our budget was being battered by excessive alcohol consumption, so a dollar saved at this point was going to be a dollar that we'd be able to consume in any friendly TJ bar. Ah yes, little was I to know at this point that the scope of our very own project was shifting and that with increasing subtlety our requirements were changing also.
Roll forward a couple of weeks to the foyer of Hostal Regina where I was planning to purchase plane tickets from Mexico City back to Tijuana (which would have been the right decision by the way). Jumping onto skyscanner I was just about to lock in Aeromexico flights to TJ when Patrick suggested to me that he could get discounted tickets to LA, 'Why not save yourself the hassle and fly direct, avoid the bus ride and in the end it will be CHEAPER'. Oh yeah, his words ring out loud like Big Ben even now. I looked at Frichot who was kind of in his own facebook land at the time and his only response was 'do it'. I knew right then that the decision to ditch the visa option in Tijuana was going to make the flight out of Mexico an epic affair, and as that damn cone of uncertainty widened I intuitively felt that the cost of our naivety would somehow be paid back with epic outflow of pesos.
Come the day of departure we casually left the hostel after saying our goodbyes and made our way with ease to Benito Juarez, the international airport of Mexico City. Now the rigmarole of checking in, passing through customs and then immigration is always the most boring escapade of any excursion. I always thought that airports could do something a little more ingenious with their methodology, perhaps give out spot prizes for people waiting in those queues of misery or perhaps incorporate theme park roller coaster rides to get you from the check-in queue to your next port of business. Needless to say, the only drama that we encountered at check-in on this occasion was the Aeromexico staff member casually mentioning that our entry cards should be both viewed and then stamped by immigration prior to departure. There was not a hint at a problem at this point, our bags had been sent down the conveyor belt of 'no return' to the flight and was already in the process of sinking pre-flight martini's with all their other hold luggage companions as we casually stolled away from the counter.
Casually wondering through the terminal - 'It's all cool honey bunny'
After wondering around the airport for an hour we decided to make our way through security, customs and immigration. Even this part of the process was a cruise, up until this point there hadn't been any issue raised at all. In my mind, once we'd jumped through customs and by-passed immigration any reservations that I may have had regarding the lack of visas was immediately alleviated. All we needed to do now was board the flight and sail away into the crimson Mexican evening. Of course that assumption was to be.......WRONG! (insert any buzzer sound you would like here!).
I literally should have read the signs - a 'Hello Mexico' sign on the way out did not bode well!
Sitting outside the boarding gates for a little while our flight opened its gate for boarding approximately 45 mins prior to the departure time. Jet and I traded idle chit chat whilst standing in line and cheerily making our way to the counter in order to hand over our boarding passes. Then came the question, 'Can I see your immigration papers'. We handed them over. 'Oh sorry sir, you will need to go back to immigration and have these stamped. It's ok, you still have time but you will be required to go through security again'. Now whilst this sounded like just a minor inconvenience that incessant beating drum that had all but disappeared when we casually passed through customs was now pounding in my head like the buena vista social club had all simultaneously taken handfuls of viagra.
Catching an article on the Sydney Morning Herald site just yesterday under a none too creative headline titled flightmares, the 'hassled' and 'spurned' writer discusses the impossible and epic struggles that he had encountered whilst attempting to catch flights. All he really was referring to however was a spate of bad connections that he had suffered in his time, something that easily could have been overcome if he originally had the foresight to have left several hours between connecting flights rather than 45 mins! The process that we were only just being flung into now however, I think, was more deserved of a flightmare nomination. Casually we walked into the immigration office and asked the surly and kind of inane looking neanderthal to stamp our documents so that we could immediately split for our flight. He looks at us for a moment and mentions something about an entry stamp. I explain in turn that we entered Mexico via Tijuana and that we were not provided with one at the border. Again he flicks through our passports and locates the entry stamp for the US. Looking skyward for a moment, which in turn could only have meant that he was trying to do some basic arithmetic, he takes out piece of paper, grunts and points to the first line.'¿Qué' I respond. He grunts yet again and points at the first line. I review the piece of paper and realise that he has produced a schedule of fines and he's pointing to the first item on the list, a 1186 peso ($95 AUD) fine for being in the country for 20-30 days without a visa. My immediate response is to argue, it's what I'm good at and what I do in situations such as these. I completely drop any of my basic Spanish that might actually have eased tensions and go into explaining the situation, how customs/immigration at the border was non-existant and how our flight was going to leave in 30 mins. He looks at us in a type of vacant, annoyed manner, grunts yet again whilst point to the fine and then mentions something about going to terminal one. At this point I'm losing my cool a little and I raise my voice, 'what mate, what do you want me to do in terminal one? Is there a party there or something?'. He's relentless though, he simply pushes the schedule towards me and says 'You pay fine in terminal one'. As the minutes tick away and I realise that a fine is the only way to save us I try the dodgy alternative and offer him a bribe in order to stamp the passport/documents, but this bastard doesn't fold. What I also realise as the minutes tick past is that any opportunity that we may have had to make it back to terminal one in order to pay the fine was lone gone, tracking their and back is a distance and a luxury which we now can't afford. The only shot that we had now, other than bribing this dumb ass was to plead our case back at the boarding gate.
Now really, how ridiculous is this. You can by-pass security, customs and an ignorant immigration official in this airport and make it all the way to the boarding gate only to be told there that you're not compliant with 'regulations'. We managed to make it all the way back to the boarding gate only to be told, guess what!? That we weren't compliant! Ahhhh f*** !! Maybe if I was an attractive 6 foot tall blonde I'd be compliant huh Gomez!?? It was right then and there that I realised that Aeromexico was going to be taking off to LA without us. It was also at that moment that I knew that the money that we had spent for our tickets had just effectively flown out of the country, although I didn't want to mention the fact to Frichot at this point. The only saving grace for us at this moment was that Aeromexico was able to off load our luggage and that we'd be able to pick it up at their outside counters.
The face of complete defeat - Frichot back at the hostel after our painful ordeal
Irritated and disconsolate with a big dose of angry we walked back to the Aeromexico counter and went about adjusting our flights out of the city for the next evening. Again, I knew what was coming here but I intended on playing dumb all the way through. The service rep at the counter looked for flights out the next evening but then hit me with the inevitable line, 'Yes, we can change them but there will be a $200 cost for the itinerary change' ...he paused for a second and then added 'Sorry, that's an adjustment of $200 per ticket'. I laughed out aloud and said to the guy 'You know, our tickets cost $376 in total, now you're asking us to pay an additional $400 to fly out tomorrow when our flight has already left this evening because of events beyond our control'. He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and simply said 'Chess' (chess, it's the way that yes sounds in that damn accent that for right at this moment was freakin' annoying).....'Alright Jose where is your manager, I'd like to speak to him'. He explains where I can locate his manager and adds something to me about a dude that's supposedly wearing a red tie, that makes the supervisor easily identifiable, apparently!? Either that or he was a little late for a Valentines Day date.
We locate Jose's manager at another Aeromexico counter. He kind of looks like agent Smith out of The Matrix, just less attractive, greasier and oozing arrogance. Before I spoke to the guy I already expected him to be a mammoth tool and boy didn't I read him well off the bat. I slowly and calmly explained our situation to him requesting that Aeromexico do the right thing and either refund the price of the tickets or change our flights to the following evening at no additional cost. This cockhead then proceeds to half lecture me upon our duty as travellers to know of all immigration and visa requirements prior to entry and out of hand dismisses my claims that there was nobody at the border that could have assisted in having our documents stamped (I mean he was kind of right but also kind of not - we passed by initially without anyone stopping us or offering advice). He wraps up his delivery by telling us that Aeromexico would not be willing to absorb any of these costs and that we would need to acquire additional tickets if we wanted to fly out. Now usually at this point I would have flipped my lid and either unleashed a tirade of abuse or jumped the counter and made a quaint noose out of that pansy red tie that he was wearing. I didn't however, even when he deliberately turned his back and ignored my presence I kept it cool. Not sure how I managed that but it happened.
At our wits end and some six hours after leaving Hostal Regina we made our way back to spend another night. We jumped online to acquire tickets to LA for the next afternoon, with Alaska Airlines on this occassion, and vowed to be at the airport five hours prior to our departure time in order to get this damn fine paid and our documents well and truly stamped. None too surprisingly it would take nearly all of the five hours that we placed aside in order to get everything organised. It really was one damn big project.
The following day at the airport started like this, a visit to the immigration counter at terminal 2, scene of the previous evening's showdown with Mr Dimwit. Once there the same type of conversation commenced with yet another member of staff and then I knew, this day was going to be one epic mission. She explained to us once again that a fine needed to be paid, of which we were already well aware. She then pointed out the banks at which we may pay the fine, the type of authorisation stamp required and the fact that we needed to get to terminal one in order to have our passports/documents stamped also. So we headed off the the bank. As we approached one teller he pointed us out to someone else who inevitably pointed us elsewhere who in turn pointed us to the original teller in order to get an 'all clear' on the fine. That was an hour well spent. We were now required to obtain our itinerary from Alaksa Airlines in order to show immigration that we actually had plans to leave the country today, stop number three on this epic journey.
We wait for the Alaska Airlines counter to open and then in turn wait in line for another hour to obtain our itinerary. Of course we weren't allowed to check-in at this point because we didn't have that vital stamp, something that the retard at the Aeromexico counter could have advised us off prior to wasting all our time waiting at the gate the previous night. In any case with the fine paid and our itinerary in hand we went to immigration in what we thought would be a simple case of stamping a few documents....but oh no, now commenced a whole freakin' production. A litany of documents passed in front of our noses, all requiring signatures, all requiring the signature of some high and statelt immigration official, all requiring a special seal or secret password to be spoken. It was to be 'death by bureaucracy' for myself and Jet at this point. It must have been another 90 or so mins that we waited idly at the counter before we finally received the all clear from the immigration official and were allowed to proceed back up to check-in.
Finally on the way out
Sunset over the California coastline
It was only after our second round battle with the Alaska Airlines check-in counter that we finally believed that everything was in order and that we'd be heading back to LA. Our slight indiscretion at the border two weeks prior had cost us 24hours and approximately $350. A lesson that had been learnt the hard way! So with that I give this simple advice to all you travellers out there that may be deliberating as to whether an entry stamp or visa is worth the trouble. If you're ever in that situation just think of a drunk little Mexican man on your shoulder yelling out, 'Hey you're gonna wanna get that visa compañero, we no like proyecto's.' - because inevitably, without that little stamp, you're going to get bent over and ridden like a bad donkey.
