Vietnamese Customs

Saigon | Tân Bình district | 18:29 | 090598 | 10.817, 106.663 | JP81 03-####-7680

“We aren’t even supposed to be here! You don’t want us here! So let us out damn it!”

A couple in disheveled expensive clothes argued at the gate with the attendant.

“Please be patient ma'am, all flights are grounded.”

“ This was supposed to be a 20 minute connection!”

The tall fit man beside her wore an expensive black turtleneck and chinos so tightly fit, they seemed ready to tear themselves off. An Olympian body bought and paid for by the circles under his eyes and early greying hair which he wore like military decorations. The bleach blonde a head shorter wore her orange wayfarers like a headband between her ram horns. All to keep her $473 “natural” look together after a 21 hour flight and 7 hour layover. She was dressed for a reservation on Phuket Island that her digital calendar constantly reminded her of. She growled and dismissed her notification for jetskiing.

The two watched helplessly as guards broke up the chattering crowd of caged expats and transfers for Kente to walk through.

Regardless of the chaos above and around the airport, the customs office maintained a veneer of normalcy, allowing trapped passengers to enter from one section of the pen to another. Kente chuckled at this. He past through a special lane designated for “Special Dignitaries and Exclusive Visas:” Saito’s Personal Fastlane.

“The Hell!”

“What is dis Bullshit!”

If Kente saw the look of death the golden-eyed woman and her partner gave him as he passed through, he made no show of it.

The attendant, abandoned by the army, clung to bureaucratic language by her fingernails.

“You can try speaking to our front desk if-”

“Cut the shit, You know we can't do that. Fascist pricks won’t let me through the damn gate because I’m…American.” Her fiancé moved to her shoulders and tried to soothe her. It almost worked as she nuzzled her horns into his shoulder.

"Listen, Frau...Neu-vuen. Ve know planes can go in and out.”

“That damn Saito plane landed and you guys act like it's the freakin’ King of England!”

“Dahling, please. Look, sure Saito is important, but I verk for Parson's in California. Ja, dat Parson’s. Saito is NOTHING without us. Call my boss in Pasadena, they vill compensate Saigon Air, and you. But you need to call dis number, you need to get us a plane, and get it NOW!"

The German man likely tried to seem a reasonable man, but things seem different when you are 144cm Mã Thái Hà, facing a 1.88m Venice Beach bodybuilder jabbing his finger at you. The attendant maintained her composure while pressing the silent alarm under her desk.

"I'm sorry sir, there is nothing I can do."

Lisa threw up her hands.

As Ludvig and the attendant argued, the sun-kissed woman impatiently tapped her manicured hooves against the carpet, while angrily gnawing on a piece of bubble gum to distract herself. The fiery socialite came from Arcadia, a hedonistic land of wild song, endless sunshine, orgiastic violence, bottomless wine, and incorrigible women. Though similar things are said about the rest of LA County as well. She looked out with growing contempt at the Japanese man walking through the special gate.

Kente slides through the lane while the Guards form up on the each side of the gate waiting for him to go through. Kente shows his Black badge, and ID to Dỗ Vân An, 48 year old custom’s officer. The woman barely looks up from her game of solitaire to acknowledge him.
“Did you bring your passport?”

“No.”

“The woman grabbed a visa sticker from a drawer and made some marks on it. “Please place it in your passport at your earliest convenience.” The woman said in practiced Japanese.

She then passed a bronze coin with a red card attached, the “Magistrate’s Visa.”

“And here is your priority card.” Her emotionless face breaking into a wry smile. “For all the good that will do you right now.”

Kente rejoins his escort team as he passes the food court and lobby of the airport. The Airport, the House of Commerce Saito Built, bore more resemblance in this moment to Newspaper photos of a refugee center or humanitarian intervention. Wide halls of peppy advertisements and inviting shops filled with well dressed, poor temperament travelers from across the world. Near the fast food franchises of America, was Hikari Sato (Tosu 35) who vented on the phone to her mother. While a Mitsuki haiku Red entertained Ienaga Sato (Tosu 6), before stopping to ping a wave to the MH on Kente’s belt.

A middle aged man, likely from HICE, took a break from his phone call to flag one of the guards in Cambodian. The guard did his best to reassure him while still maintaining his escort duties. Kente looked past the gap made to see the mounted TV in the corner of a deserted Izakaya. Under it stood Factory Manager Ozawa Subaru (Aichi 41), and Car Salesman Colton Law (Toronto 65). They stood outside and watched the TV with tired eyes, drooping cigarettes, and hands in their pockets. Muraoka Karen of the Saigon News Network somberly brought the news in Japanese with Vietnamese subtitles:

“The Imperial Diet has authorized additional troops to be sent promising a swift “Restoration of Normalcy.”

The Captain noticed the TV’s announcement, and while he thought Kente wasn’t looking, shook his head sadly. He coughed to grab Kente’s attention. They stood on the railing looking out to the first floor below. In the large airport windows at the kiss and ride, Kente could see the lines of Magistrate and Imperial Guards holding back rioters. Meanwhile the first floor of the airport was transformed into a bunker: machine gun nests, patrolling troops, and sandbags. Hue Si Limitada APCs sat in the lobby waiting to pounce on unsuspecting protestors. At first Kente thought the sandbags on tarmac were merely a precaution. It was only now that it dawned on him it was a siege.

“This isn’t the first time the outside powers have tried to topple us, and it won't succeed this time either.” The Captain proclaimed drawing his arms behind his back. “But as you can see, there will not be any taxi cabs to take you to a nice sushi restaurant and a hotel.”

“So where are you taking me?”

“Taking you? Haha. No, Senhor, my orders are to keep you safe, not to take you anywhere.” “This is unacceptable, Saito has given explicit instructions for me to be escorted to Saito Tower immediately.”

“We have taken their ‘instructions...’” The word lingered too long on Captain Bui’s tongue which clicked as though he was removing a bad taste. “...Under advisement, and will fulfill Saito’s delivery as soon as I deem it safe to do so. I'm sure Saito can survive a check for embezzlement and payroll fraud later than scheduled.”

Kente was about to say something else, the captain didn’t let him, now drawing closer, with a hand on Kente’s shoulder.

“Now, unless this urgency is related to the current situation right now, I can of course get a chopper in the air now. We would be happy to assist those who assist us, so long as you don’t mind a minor detour to Vong Tau in exchange”

Kente shook his head. He slumps onto an mid-century modern chair as though in a display of wounded pride and impotent rage: the trappings of a man defeated.

“Tsk. Shame. Well you may as well get yourself comfortable, senhor.”

Kente places his jacket over the sofa and looks around the airport. He placed his elbows on what passed for an arm rest before he checked his Swiss watch, and lit a Cigarette from a red packet. Captain Bui waited to see if he would be offered one to politely decline.

He was not.

Kente waited for the captain to turn around before speaking to him.

“You said you can get me food?”

“Fast food, from the airport or rations from my commissary, which suits your taste?“

“Give me a hamburger, fries, beer.”

After a long flight Kente always ate the same thing: TKG and Mineral Water. But he rattled off his old Wharton lunch order in the hopes that Captain Bui would read into it.

“Seems you were more American than I thought.” The captain sounded amused. One of the soldiers stands at attention, the captain dismisses him.

“I will go to the restroom then to freshen up, would dinner be ready by the time I get back?”

“This is Saigon, not Tokyo or New York. It will be timely, so long as you take your time.”

“I can see that.”

Kente spoke with short phrases, as though trying to mask impotence, as he slung his blazer to the side and walked with his cigarette in his other hand towards the hallway restrooms. He placed his headphones over his head, and once he was out of direct eyesight of the guards, pressed a button on his silver box.
"Hello, Ken-san, would you like to practice Vietnamese?" His AI asked with a friendly chipper voice.

"No, Missy, I want you to find me a hotel for tomorrow, one with a good view”

“Of course Ken-san.” The voice chippered through his headphones as he walked to the restrooms.

“Has my wife been able to find something to keep the kids busy?”