I was traveling in Europe and (due to an error of a fellow with whom I was traveling) ended up in Iran. When the other fellow and I arrived at the border, we were immediately met by border guards and had to give them our passports. We were then led away to await the processing of the passports. Only now did I realize we had been taken to the same prison in which I had once spent 8 months.
I was quite concerned with the situation. I didn't want anyone to know I had once been imprisoned in Iran for 8 months because I feared they might try to hold me again. I thought back about my imprisonment and remembered I had escaped from prison and that, therefore, there might be some kind of ground for holding me again. But I also remembered I had been imprisoned while the Shah of Iran had been in power and that I had been able to escape due to the Iranian Revolution. I remembered the revolutionaries themselves had decided to let me go. So I thought there was no real grounds for trying to hold me now.
However it would be better if I didn't have to go into all of that. I knew I had a different passport from the one I had had at the time of my imprisonment in Iran; therefore the authorities wouldn't be able to detect anything from the passport. However I was concerned I might have mentioned to the fellow who was traveling with me that I had been in prison in Iran. He might inform the authorities in order to get himself out of some kind of trouble. Ironically I remembered that right before I had left the United States to go to France, my father had asked me whether I intended to return to Iran and I had adamantly told him no. Now here I was.
When we arrived inside, the fellow with me asked me if I had told the authorities about some kind of scientific paperback book I was carrying in my back pocket. I told him I hadn't and he said that one of the guards knew about the book and had said I was going to have to pay a fee of over 2,000 French francs if I wanted to keep the book. I thought that was ridiculous and I threw the book into a trash can. But I might regret that later if it turned out I had to stay long and needed something to read.
The other fellow walked away and I sat down on a bench. Soon a prisoner who turned out to be an American walked up. I thought I recognized him as Bill Cambell (a Portsmouth acquaintance) and I vaguely thought I recalled that he had been in jail back at the same time I had been there. But I then saw the fellow wasn't Cambell after all (but I still thought the fellow had been in jail with me before). I wondered if he had been here all the intervening years and I cringed at the idea of having to spend so much time in this jail.
I was mostly concerned that the fellow might recognize me and tell the guards that I had once been imprisoned here. He sat down with me and began talking. It didn't take long before I could clearly see that he was mentally deranged. He didn't seem dangerous but he was far from coherent.
Another fellow walked up who also appeared to be an American. I wasn't completely sure, but I didn't think I had ever seen him before. We talked for a while and he told me he had been here for quite a while. I assured him that I wasn't going to be here long and that when I got out I would do what I could to see that he was released. I asked why he had been imprisoned and I was surprised to hear that it had been for murder. I was also surprised to hear that his sentence had only been three years. But I didn't go into all the details with him.
I was then called back to the front for processing. I stood before a high counter and a guard on the other side began asking me some questions. He wanted to know what I had done with the book I had brought in and I told him I had thrown it away. He asked me what my profession and I told him I was an avocat. He seemed satisfied with that and it seemed as if I were going to be let go.
Copyright 2004 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com
