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6. Worldview short stories

THE FRENCH CONSUL

In the nineteen seventies, on my summer vacation, as a beginner
university language teacher I supplemented my family's income
as a tour guide, and it was also a good opportunity to travel and
see the world. The travel agency stationed me in London for
eight weeks. The bus travelled across Europe, then the group
left London by plane and the other group arrived by plane and
enjoyed the program in the opposite direction. I was constantly
living in London and managed the arrival and departure affairs
of the groups travelling in and out.
- Hungarians - said the customs officer when our bus rolled off
the ferry at the Dover port.
- Puskas - his eyes sparkled and he pointed at me, perhaps
indicating that he has a high level of knowledge about Hungary.
- Well, my name is Biró - I answered.
-Oh, yes. I know his name too - he said - he invented good
stationery. Your relative was clever, he continued, and his
overwhelming knowledge surplus was inevitable. In England at
that time, the ball point pen was still called a biro-pen.
- No - I answered - I write my name with a short i.
- Oh, sorry.
He knew with English certainty that the subtly hidden maze of
using a family name was a serious trap.
- Don't worry - I said, everything is fine.
- Have you got all the passports?
- Yes, here you are.
He took all the passports and left. After a while he came back
and he said all right.
-Everything is fine, you can start, only the two drivers can't go -
he said. - They have to return to France on the next ferry. They
cannot enter England because if they do, their French visa will
expire.

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