I mentioned a few days ago of writing that had been written down the side of a Saudi visa in my passport and that I had a little anecdote, that I would relate later, concerning writing on an Iraqi visa that caused me a bit of a problem.
In 85 Promotor was into the Baghdad International Trade Fair in a big way. The British Pavilion was organised and backed by the BOTB. We provided most other services. We were not only shipping many trailer loads of exhibits to the fair but also providing flights and hotel accommodation. It didn’t stop there of course. Alongside the freight we handled all the custom clearance, unloading, unpacking and positioning of exhibits. On the travel side we booked flights and hotel rooms for our customers as well as sorting out their visas, airport transfers and generally looking after them. We also provided furniture, fridges, drinks and anything else they may need on their stands. All the exhibitors had to do was sell.
A lot of planning was required on our part and Peter (Mr Promotor) Calderwood went out to Baghdad for a few days well in advance of the fair on a recce trip. He met up with our customs agent, the hotel managers and the British Airways office manager, an Englishman. For Promotor this was one of the largest jobs we had ever handled. Turnover would be in the region of £750k. It was decided I would run the complete show myself with the help of one of our drivers. Peter had wangled a free ticket out of BA and I was to base myself in the Meridian Hotel.
Iraqi visas were always a bit of a problem unless they were for lorry drivers so Promotor obtained my visa at the same time as visas for three or four of our drivers. I flew out Sunday afternoon on a BA Tristar to Baghdad via Amman arriving just after midnight. Immigration could be a bit of a chore at Saddam International Airport and that night was worse than usual. Somehow I ended up last off the plane and joined the queue. An hour later I was the only one left and as I handed my passport over I was thinking of the hotel bed that awaited me. The Iraqi immigration officer opened my passport looked at my visa then at me and asked where my lorry was. It was at that point I knew I was in deep sh-t. I knew I had a lorry drivers visa but didn’t think it mentioned driver on it. In fact I had flown into Baghdad on a couple of occasions previously with visas obtained in London as a driver and not had a problem.
It wasn’t until much later that I showed the visa to our agent in Baghdad, he informed me that written in Arabic down the side of my visa it said “This man must enter Iraq with a lorry”.
I remonstrated with the immigration officer promising to make him a rich man. He then asked if I had any luggage. I said I did and he sent me off to get it. Upon my return he asked me to follow him and we went to a door which he opened. I went through and I found myself looking up at the BA Tristar. Up you go he said and with that I found myself back in London on the Monday morning instead of waking up in a nice Hotel room in central Baghdad.
This is not the end of the story. I will finish it later.