My 90-day tourist visa for Australia was to expire on March 2, 2003 and I had booked a flight to New Zealand that was to depart that morning at 9:35.  Arriving at the airport at 8:00, I presented my ticket to the friendly lady at the check-in counter, who promptly asked to see my passport.  As I reached in my pocket for my passport, however, I got that sinking feeling that comes from the realization that something is dreadfully wrong.

The problem wasn't with my passport - thankfully - it was right where it should be.  No, the problem was that my wallet had gone missing - along with my ATM and credit cards, a significant amount of cash, and who knows what other odds and ends that would prove difficult to replace from halfway around the globe.  I knew I had it at lunch the previous day, but didn't remember using it again before arriving at the airport.

You see, during my travels, I always wear trousers with the extra pockets on both sides, lower down on the legs - the kind with Velcro flaps to keep the contents safe and secure.  I keep a small amount of folding money in the regular pocket for day-to-day transactions, and leave the bulk of my cash (and all my credit cards) in my wallet in the lower pocket.  That way I don't have to flash all my cash each time I pay for a meal (or soft drink, ice-cream... whatever).

Saturday evening, I went to a Gay Mardi Gras Parade held in downtown Sydney.  There were at least 100,000 spectators, standing ten-deep along the parade route.  Everyone was pressed tightly together trying to get a good look at the parade, and there was a lot of jostling going on.  I was paying close attention to my day-pack (remembering the incident in China when an expensive pair of sunglasses were stolen out of it while I was wearing it), but didn't really think anyone could get into my pocket with the Velcro flap and get my wallet out without me noticing.  But the only other explanation is that it just fell out of that very same pocket - which seems even less likely.  So, it's my firm belief that it must have been stolen.

Needless to say, I couldn't very well go on to New Zealand with no cash, ATM, or credit cards.  So I went back to the flat I had been sharing with five others so I could regroup and plan my strategy for recovery.  I spent a good part of the afternoon on the phone to various financial institutions in the States (not a cheap afternoon, I must say) making arrangements for replacement cards to be sent to my sister's home in Texas (my official address).  Then I had to just stay in Sydney and wait for the CARE package to arrive - which would take about three weeks.

As I mentioned before, this all happened on the last day of my 90-day visa.  The next day, Monday, I presented myself at the Australian Immigration office to try to explain why I had overstayed my visa.  Four hours (and $190) later, I was approved for an extension.  Well... almost.  During the questioning, it came out that I had been in Southeast Asia during the past year.  As a result, the immigration officer informed me I would have to get a chest x-ray to check for tuberculosis (at a cost of another $70).

And, if that wasn't enough, my airline ticket to New Zealand was of the non-changeable, non-refundable variety.  So after quite a long
discussion with my travel agent later that afternoon about extenuating circumstances, all I was able to get was an authorization code to wave the upgrade fee whenever I did decide to reschedule my flight (sometime within the next 12 months), which at least gave me the same low rate I paid originally.  I would much rather have just gotten a refund because, after waiting three weeks for my replacement cards, plus maybe another week to book my flight, I would have missed the last of the good weather for South Island.  But, I just had to settle for what they were willing to give me.  So it goes...