The plane touched down on Bangkok soil at 6:00AM local time. After eighteen hours of travel, two airplanes journeys and a jaunty yet brief layover in Doha, Qatar, our holiday was about to begin.
Steffany handed me my bag and disappeared into the crowded yet orderly aisle, joining the footsteps in unison as our brief inhabitants crawled towards the exit, tiredness and expired timezones haunting their disheveled demeanours as each one emerged into Bangkok International Airport’s chaotic terminal.
A momentary kink in the human fuselage chain allowed me to pirouette into the mix (hold on, let’s be real for a moment. There was no pirouetting whatsoever. The stark reality was that eighteen hours of compressed air was fiercely battling against the insides of my stomach lining, a battle in which I did not know who the victor would end up becoming. I was along for the ride, and was but a moment away from transforming my cotton underpants to silk by way of a flatulent war cry. But hey, pirouetting sounded fancy and I was feeling fancy).
Ah, the age of influencers. At least they’re good for something 😂
The plane squeezed us out into the terminal, directing us from one line to another as we made our way towards international immigration and the wardens of entry.
We veered around a corner and spotted the sign we eagerly awaited:
Digital Arrival Card
Two weeks before setting off and unbeknownst to the both of us, Thailand had introduced a new digital arrival card.
It effectively bypassed the tedious form one needed to complete whilst in the air with the sole purpose of speeding up the entire immigration process.
A reel had popped up on Steffany’s Instagram feed (ah, the age of influencers. At least they’re good for something 😂) and alerted us to the new travel requirements.
One needed to complete the quick application form less than 3 days before arrival (the usual stuff: passport details, flight itinerary, accommodation and the obligatory checkbox beside the, ‘I am not a walking deadly disease’).
she immediately shook her head and said aloud for all to hear
Upon completion, we received our 2 page PDFs and we were good to go.
The queue was swift and orderly (I expected nothing less from Thai procedures) and within 5 minutes we were ushered towards the immigration booth by a spindly yet enticing index finger.
“We’ve got this in the bag”, I thought to myself as I whipped out my passport on the credentials page, rotating it around so that it faced the ominous hand that was reaching out to grab it.
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However, the warden opted to view Steffany’s identification first and before looking at her passport, she immediately shook her head and said aloud for all to hear;
“Yellow Fever Vaccination. You have Yellow Fever Vaccination!”
There was no question attached to her outburst. Only an asserted affirmation.
As Steffany was Brazilian, under normal circumstances she would be required to present this certificate. However, she hadn’t been in Brasil in over a year and so, the request was effectively mute.
Of course, when I tried to explain this fact, the warden repeated even louder than before;
“YELLOW FEVER VACCINATION! YELLOW FEVER VACCINATION! YOU GO BACK AND JOIN OTHER LINE!!”
It was no use. No matter how many times we explained that Steffany lived in Spain and that the certificate was not required, the warden looked through us as if we didn’t exist.
“YOU GO BACK! YOU GO BACK!”, she reaffirmed.
“JOIN OTHER LINE! YOU GO BACK!”
We left the queue, retreated out of immigration and were directed towards a small kiosk that housed similar passengers, each one as confused and perplexed as the next.
“How will I show I haven’t been in Brasil?”, Steffany asked as we edged forward at a snails pace, each moving step bringing us closer to the noose.
I shrugged my shoulders (for I don’t know much about the world and its happenings 😂) but told her to place her residence card inside her passport in preparation.
Luck was on our side.
(I figured this new warden would flip through her pages, scouring for any trace of a recent stamp from Brasil).
Indeed, I was right.
As soon as we were called towards the booth, Steffany started to explain her situation but the warden just put out his hand, asking for her passport to conduct his inspection.
He quickly flicked through each page, nodded approvingly and offered her a one page identification form to complete.
She duly filled out every blank space and scrawled her name across the bottom, handing back the form when all was in order and ready for grading.
The warden smiled, dipped his stamp in a fresh pool of ink and officially accepted her entry.
We were in!!
(But not quite yet).
We still needed to run the previous warden’s gauntlet, an expedition I was sure would grant us a victorious outcome. However, one should never be complacent, no matter how confident the situation may seem.
Luck was on our side.
The warden recognised us and our sweating brows and within a moments notice, our passports were stamped and approved for entry.
We were in!
Now, we needed to find our bags and make our way to the hotel.
Little did we know that such a simple task would prove to be a high enough obstacle to overcome.
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