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Published: August 17th 2005
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Origin of Tommy No Papers
"We’re off to Never Never land." Many people have asked what the origin of the name “Tommy No Papers” was. Well let me take you back to a late morning, or was it afternoon, in a Vienna hotel room
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The night before I had been playing card games, the kind involving adult beverages, with my travel companions. We were sitting alongside the Danube River throwing peanuts to ducks who in retrospect might rather have stayed asleep. This pursuit quickly led to the night spinning out of control. After passing through some blue lighted bar, where the local men seemed to be a little too friendly, we ended up in some cellar bar. I think it was headbanger night. It was packed with black shirted, long haired kids in their element. It was straight out of the ‘80s. The last thing I remember hearing blasting through the bar was “Take my hand. We’re off to Never Never land.”……
So I wake up to the sound of the phone ringing. My friend picks it up. He talks for a bit and says “Hey Tom. We’re going to Bratislava.” In my half-awake state I ask “How far is that? And can you make the light go away and
Vienna
The purposeful hustle and bustle of Vienna did not enhance my decisiom making skills. shut the curtain”. So I agree, nothing better to do with myself today, and foggily dress myself and shortly later I’m on a tram meandering through the Viennese streets.
Later at the Sudbahnhoff we meet a couple of other traveling companions, including the voice on the end of phone from earlier that day. We buy our train tickets from the window and I’m feeling pretty good about myself. Man, I think, I’m one hell of a traveler. One of my friends then asks “You all have your passports, right?” Well, not exactly…
In the haze of the previous night’s bender and the harsh light of mid-day I had neglected to bring my passport. Why would you need one for an hour’s train ride? I mean you drive for an hour from my house in New York and chances are you’re still in New York. Even if you’re not, the last time I checked they didn’t check passports at the Connecticut border.
My friends ask me with concern what I am going to do. I don’t blink. Of course I’m getting on that train. What else would an inveterate traveler do? I’m thinking that since it’s only an
Bratislava
"Slovakia is a very beautiful country." hour away Slovakian immigration won’t bother too much. And anyway if I can’t get in it’ll be an adventure. So one of my friends says, “Ok Tommy No Papers let’s go to Bratislava.”
As the train rocketed along the tracks toward Slovakia I was devising what I would say to immigration when I got there. Well that and praying that they wouldn’t come on the train and throw me off at the border to while away my days in some small Austrian town trying to make somebody understand my plight. My plan if I ran into any immigration problems was to show them my New York State drivers license and my return ticket for that day. Of course they would let me in. I was a world traveler who’d been to five continents. Obviously my reputation and experience would make things a snap.
I was feeling good things about things. We had apparently already crossed the border into Slovakia. I was in!! Then I saw the communist-era grey block apartments loom in the distance. This was Eastern Europe after all and not Euro Disney. Then my friend pointed out the grim looking soldiers with AK-47s keeping to their post. Hmmm….maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Then I thought about something that made me laugh out loud. How was I going to get back into Austria without my passport?
We pull into the train station in Bratislava. It looked like a normal commuter train station to me. Maybe I had gotten away with forgetting my passport. I took a step in side and that’s when I saw them, two Slovakian immigration officials sitting behind a desk and a line of travelers all brandishing passports. With no where to go I waited my turn and took a step up to the plate.
“Passport” the younger official says. I hand him my driver’s license. “What is this?” he asks.
“Well you see. I kind of left my passport back at the hotel.” I say
“Where is the hotel?” the official enquires.
“Vienna” I reply. He just looks at me blankly. Apparently this was not the answer he wanted. I show him my ticket and explain that I only plan on staying for a few hours and then go back to Austria. At this point my situation has drawn the attention of the older official with the shaved head and deadpan expression.
“No. This is not possible” states the older official.
“You can’t just stamp a piece of paper and let me in? I’ll be going back to before you know it.” I ask.
“No. This is just not possible. You must get back on the train and go back.” He replies
So with a big smile on my face and with a big gesture of my hands I say, “Thank you very much. Slovakia is a very beautiful country. I’ve had a great time.”
I look down to see the slightly amused face of the younger official and the not-so amused face of the older official. I heard the happy chuckles of the people in line who had been following the whole comedy. With that I spun around, waved good bye to my friends, and headed back to the train tracks. I was so close to Bratislava I could taste it. All I had to do was cross the tracks and walk 50 yards. But the memory of the AK-47 carrying soldiers kept me rooted to my spot. The legend of Tommy No Papers had begun.
added august 16, 2005
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that's a funny story. thanks