A funny, beautiful and passionate article
by Jovina Graham
Facing the rigid faces and gruff interrogation of the US Immigration airport officials on entering the USA is an intimidating process by most people’s standards, and probably my least favourite part of travelling (yes, even including having to share a small cabin space with at least three snorers and one poor screaming toddler).
I sometimes wonder where those immigration officials train – perhaps Guantanamo Bay, perhaps in the deepest darkest trenches of the Pentagon. My recent trip to New York actually got me thinking that perhaps it was elsewhere.
After disembarking from a plane in Los Angeles, and waiting in a line for the better part of an hour, during which time a small mouse decided to wake us all up with its morning dash across weary travellers’ feet, I was finally facing my interrogator (aka US Immigration Official).
In short sentences, he asked me where I was going, why I was going, with whom I was going, and for how long I was going. My story seemed a bit suspicious: a young single woman travelling alone to New York for just three days to attend the wedding of a cousin.
My explanation: I am about to get married so had no annual leave available, but dearly wanted to attend the wedding of a very special cousin, so I decided to go for a short period only. My inquisitor continued on by asking why I wasn’t travelling with my fiancé. “We don’t travel together because we’re not married yet.” “Don’t you live together?” “No we don’t.”
And from there, in just one moment, the inquisition turned into some strange mix of a Cosmo magazine column and an episode of Dr Phil, with this young American male earnestly telling me how crazy I was for not living with this man before marrying him, and trying to point out all the evils of my decision….read more here