#244: “Wizzing Around Bucharest”

“Wizz Airlines, how can I help you?”

… was not a sentence that filled me full of hope but the lady from the Irish Embassy in Bucharest told me that my best bet was to call the airline. She thought they might authorise a change of my travel documents and that might be enough to allow me to fly.

“Hi there. I’m flying from Bucharest to Malta with your airline today. The only problem is I’ve lost my passport and I was wondering if it would be okay to fly on my American Visa which is in an expired passport.”
“That’s no problem. Just call out the document’s numbers and I’ll switch them.”
“Really. Wow, that’s brilliant. And there won’t be any trouble at the airport?”
“I’m not 100% sure Sir. Normally if it’s okay by the airline, it’s okay by the authorities.”

Calling out all the details, I shot Saron a smiley, wide-eyed expression from across the taxi. She just shook her head – a mixture of ‘why do you to this to yourself and, therefore, us’ and ‘you jammy bastard’. I thanked the customer service rep and hung up.

The smugness on my part was short-lived. At the airport, the man at passport control told me that the airline’s approval wasn’t enough. It would be fine if Romania was part of Schengen but it wasn’t so there was a strong chance I would be sent back by Malta, incurring the Romanian authorities a fine. Resigned and disconsolate, I told him that I was going to go straight to the embassy and asked him what I needed. He told me that a letter from them confirming that I am who I said I am would suffice.

“That sounds like something I could get pretty quickly?”

He shrugged. I looked at my watch. It was 11.35. The flight still wasn’t boarding for 70 minutes. How far away was the embassy? Would they write up this letter while I was en route so I could expedite the pit stop and race back to catch the plane? I kissed Saron goodbye, told her to tie her shoelaces at the boarding gate and sprinted away, promising to do my best…

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Unibet Opens have been around for a long time. They started in 2007 and I played my first one in Barcelona in June 2011. I failed to cash the Main Event but took 5th in the PLO side. This year, I played their Malta stop in May as well as their €550 DSO event in July. No joy in either main but I got 4th and 6th respectively in the side events of each. (Yes, I’m noticing a pattern here too.)

Having spoken with some people within Unibet, I know that they recognise an opportunity right now to grow their market share and, as such, have invested substantially in software and a new user interface for their customers. This has been rigorously beta-tested and will be rolled out in early December, making it especially important for them that the Unibet Open Bucharest is a success. With that in mind, they have teamed up with the local operator PokerFest, the group responsible for all the best Romanian poker festivals of the last few years and a big part of the reason that the game has grown so much in that part of Europe. There will be a €1100 Main (in which I am almost certainly dead money!) a €2200 High-roller and half a dozen €100-€300 sides (in which I am a legitimate threat!). It’s got all the makings of a phenomenal festival. In fact, with new legislation in Czech making the upcoming Prague EPT/Eureka almost certainly the last, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Bucharest takes over as the ultimate European Winter poker destination.

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67 minutes until boarding.
23 minutes to the embassy.
23 minutes back.
15 minutes to get through security and passport control.

That left me with exactly 6 minutes plus maybe 10 extra minutes if I was last to board. That wasn’t much wiggle-room if there was a delay at any point. I showed the Google-map route to the taxi driver and asked him if he would wait for me and do the return trip. He said that it was no problem and that he reckoned he could get me there in 20 minutes. What a legend!

I phoned the embassy and spoke to the same lady as before. She said that she had already spoken to the ambassador about me, telling him that there was a decent chance that they would be seeing me that day and he had already verified who I was with the relevant people back in Ireland. Could people from Bucharest be any more on the ball? She said that she would start the letter immediately.

The Irish Embassy is a two-room office on the 4th floor of an office block, facing a McDonalds. On my arrival, I was greeted by Nicoleta, the lady with whom I had been speaking. She said that the letter just had to be printed, I thanked her profusely and she rushed back behind her desk. A check of my phone told me it was 12.01. The ambassador came out and shook my hand, commiserated with my bad fortune and made some small talk. A minute later, Nicoleta ran over with the letter. The ambassador looked at it and told her that I might need a version of it in English too. He felt strongly that it would be needed at the other end in Malta. She immediately ran in behind her desk again and started typing.

Precious minutes ticked away. The ambassador asked me about my interaction with the man at passport control. He said that he was surprised that they said that this letter would be enough but said that things might be loosening up as Romania and Bulgaria were both on the cusp of becoming Schengen countries.

I heard the printer noise and looked around. Nicoleta smiled and handed me the two letters. I thanked her and the ambassador, they wished me luck and I rushed out to the taxi, whose owner was dutifully waiting as promised. It was 12.09.

The traffic had picked up but my taxi man broke the speed limit when he could. Approaching the airport, I got a text from Saron. It was 12.31 and the gate still hadn’t opened. I replied, telling her that I had a shot. I gave the taxi man all my remaining money (a 50% tip which he 150% earned) and dashed through the airport. There was about thirty people in front of me in the passport control queue but the line was moving fast. My phone buzzed and I looked at the message: “Boarding now and the plane doesn’t look full! I’ll do what I can to stall. Hurry!”

At the top of the queue, I was ushered to a different passport control officer to the one I spoke to earlier. I showed him my ticket, my American Visa and my letter from the Embassy. A grimace was followed by a head shake.

“This isn’t enough.”

I gestured to the next booth over.

“Your colleague sent me to get this. He said it would be enough.”

He walked over to his colleague and the two conversed. He came back and said that his colleague had thought that I was traveling back to Ireland. He said that, since I’m Irish, they wouldn’t turn me away but Malta might and if that happened they would be fined. I was gutted. It was 12.51 but the time didn’t matter anymore. I stepped solemnly to the side and texted Saron the bad news, apologised profusely and promised to do everything I could to get home as quickly as possible. She replied immediately: “You’re a gobshite… but I still love you. I’ll call you when I land.”

I asked the officer what I should do next and he told me that I had two options. I could either book a flight to Ireland or go back to the Embassy and have them send off for a notarised letter with a photograph. The latter seemed like the better option. A few nights in Bucharest wouldn’t be so bad and I wouldn’t have to get multiple flights.

I changed some money and hailed a taxi. Putting my case in the boot, I saw a plane ascending not far in the distance. Emblazoned on the side in gaudy pink and purple writing was the word ‘Wizz’. I got into the taxi and headed back to the Embassy.

To Be Continued…