'Boarding the train at Cologne Central Station with only one change in Utrecht, The Boy and I settled into our seats and promptly fell asleep. An hour later I was woken up by border control. I sleepily handed over my passport and waited, keeping an eye open so I wouldn’t drift back into dreamland without having my precious maroon book filled with stamps and visas back in my possession. But it never came. The guard with our IDs was now muttering something into his phone. Still slumped in my seat, I cast a glance towards The Boy. It was probably him they were after; his appearance always seems to unsettle particular members of society. Then I heard my surname being spelled out phonetically.
Well, I never! I announced in mock indignation, as two more guards hurried down the aisle to our seats, reminding me of an unpleasant scene when four Deutsche Bahn employees had been unnecessarily aggressive towards me during my work commute. Truly bemused, I sat up and watched as the three guards attempted to unpeel the page of my passport where my photo lay. I was getting bored of this and decided to speed up the charade.
The three guards looked up.
‘What are you looking for? Perhaps I may be of assistance.’
‘Just some technicalities‘, the first guard responded.
He handed me back my passport. I watched him walk off before mimicking his words to The Boy. Just some technicalities. LOL.’
Read about my trip to The Netherlands: http://wp.me/p25nLU-tw