Passport Photo

It occured to me that I will never have a nice passport photo. Given my track record with the damn thing, you'd think it was against the natural order of universe for me to get a decent passport photo.

Last Tuesday, as I sat before the photographer, I thought to myself that maybe this year I'd have a better shot seeing that I didn't have to wake up at 5am to queue up at the Immigration office. Yes, our governmental processes used to be much more of a pain in the ass that it is now, but I digress. And so, I flashed the cameraman my best snarl (For some reason, it just feels wrong to be all smiley and cheerful for official photos).

Needless to say, it was another crappy photo. I look old, tired and guilty. If I were ever hauled into the interrogation room of a foreign country under the suspicion of smuggling child pornography, I'm gonna be in deep trouble. (No, you bastards, I will not scan and publish it here.)

The past years were no better. In my last passport, I look like a refugee from the killing fields who had accidentally stepped on a land mine. But at least I looked young then. Heck, I WAS young then.

Going back further, even my childhood passport was not spared. I got my first travel document at the age of 8. In it, I looked like the bargain bin special of a fledging third world child sex ring.

In retrospect, I probably should have gotten the photographer to reshoot but that would probably be another exercise in futility. Maybe I just ought to smile more for these official photographs. Oh well.