This is by far my weirdest travel story till date…
It was the end of February and I was travelling to Manila for work & pleasure.
The work aspect justified me getting a business class ticket.
As I arrived (3 hours before departure) at the check-in desks they were just about to open. I was personally welcomed and thanked for flying Qatar Airways again and so was the guy behind me, judging from his response and accent I could I tell he is British.
I took a quick glance at him and he looked like any ordinary tourist. mid 50’s, dressed casual, slightly overweight. Not at all a person who’d turn heads while walking down the street.
Since I’m a frequent flyer I’m a member of our local airport’s ‘fast track program’. They scan your iris and give you a special card, allowing you to skip immigration and go through a special line (something that does make heads turn from many of the people queuing in the immigration line). This pass also gives me access to a dedicated lounge, only available to members.
Lo and behold, who’s there too in the lounge, the British guy. It made me think about how weird it was for a foreigner to be part of this fast-track program but didn’t pay any further attention. Until I caught part of a phonecall he was conducting. “What are we going to do with the Canadians?” he said. My fantasy began to work and I was thinking he might be some businessman in the middle of an acquisition or merger. Didn’t pay any further attention though.
My first leg from AMS-DOH went smooth, slept most of the flight and didn’t meet the guy on board.
During my final leg (DOH-MNL), lo and behold, I was seated next to the British guy. Again, during the entire flight, I slept like a baby. 30 minutes before landing the crew asked me if I wanted breakfast. I had to finish it quickly because we were already in the process of descending. As soon as I was finished the table was quickly cleaned and stowed away by the crew.
As soon as the doors opened I was getting ready to disembark, but couldn’t find my phone. I suspected it to have slid into the space where the tray table is stowed (because of the rush of cleaning my table).
I kindly asked my neighbour if he could perhaps call my phone so we could locate it. He handed over his phone and allowed me to dial my number. The phone looked weird, no brand name on it and it had a protective cover that I think would survive a fall of the empire state building, almost military-grade.
The dialer did look familiar, typical native Android, definitely no VoIP dialer (which wouldn’t have worked, because there was no WiFi or cellular data signal). I called my number a couple of times and indeed, it was ringing from the side of the seat, where the tray table is stowed.
After ground crew came and partly dismantled the seat I was reunited with my phone (yay!). Being the last to leave the aircraft I was also last in line for immigration. Far ahead was my helpful neighbour. Our eyes crossed and I smiled and waved with my phone, getting a thumbs up in return.
I concluded at that time he wasn’t a diplomat since he was queuing in the tourist lane. It was back in my hotel when I checked my phone. Below is a picture of the call history during those moments on the plane…
What kind of person has a phone that dials out through multiple countries?!
Since I saw him queued in the tourist lane I figured he wasn’t a diplomat. So probably a spy doing his uttermost best to mingle in with everyone else.
Months later my friend decided to call one of the numbers. It rang a couple of times and was then answered with three bleeps… I guess this is where you are supposed to input your ‘super-secret agent code’ in order to be connected to the HQ..
A mystery I don’t think I’ll ever solve..
