176 AMERICAN SPY
completed visa applications to prove his point. One question on the visa
form was “Distinguishing characteristics.” Actual responses (in Serbian)
included “Extraordinarily good-looking,” “Deep voice over telephone,”
and “Left eye isn’t mine.”
Joe assured me it was just for a couple of days and it would be fun. To
sweeten the deal, he said he regularly posted some of the more amusing
passport photos (with captions) on the bulletproof glass between the visa
section and Post One, to boost the morale of the US Marine security
guards. The US Marines controlled physical access to the embassy through
the front of their secure booth, and kept an eye on the unruly visa section
through the back.
Joe showed me the handwritten captions under one photo, of an appli-
cant who bore a striking resemblance to Adolf Hitler:
- Do not salute this man.
- Won third place in last year’s Adolf Hitler lookalike contest.
- Demands a rematch.
Joe also reminded me that it would be a good opportunity to practice
my Serbian. He promised I would not regret helping him out. I said, “I’m
in, but only if I can bring my boom box.” He agreed. What neither of us
knew at the time was that he would end up being the one to regret asking
me for help.
The next morning, a typically cold, polluted, and depressing Belgrade day,
I showed up early at the visa section, cheap boom box in tow, to lend Joe a
hand. He was happy (and I think a little surprised) to see me and gave me
a crash course in how to decide whether or not an applicant should get a
visa. Essentially, it all boiled down to a very simple test: if I was not con-
vinced the applicant’s family or work ties to Yugoslavia would compel his
return after a brief American visit, I could not issue the tourist visa. I was
already familiar with the basics of immigration law, so it did not take long
for me to catch on.
Welcoming me on board, Joe solemnly issued me a used Zeleni Flo-