I had a similar experience with the line you describe when I had an O1 visa to work in the US. The mounds of paper, products and pleas of the people definitely made me realize my privilege.
This was a nice reminder. I've had 60+ years crossing borders, and most often, because of my privileges, it is indeed a formality. But it wasn't always, and sometimes it isn't now. There's always a level of unpredictability. Your piece reminded me of a night spent at JFK immigration about 3 years ago. My wife and I arrived at midnight. Here Global Entry had expired, but she had a provisional, and they purportedly would do an appointment for renewal in person. So, given that our flight wasn't until 11am the next morning, we asked and were sent down immigrations hallways to the desks (like a police department bullpen). There we were told to wait. So we did. We spent the next three hours watching the Immigration team deal with those in the slow lane. Those with stories and no papers; with stack and stacks of papers, but no credible stories; with families and all of their earthly belongings, claiming their purpose was a visit to Niagara Falls; with stacks of unexplained currency. When all else was decided, they got around to asking my wife a few perfunctory questions before renewing her Global entry. By this time it was indeed too late to go to the hotel, and we decided to go claim our bags, and watch the sunrise from the terminal, and count our privileged blessings.
Thanks, glad you enjoyed it Flavio. My wife and I similarly have mixed passports and is a layer I hadn’t even added to this piece and it does have an impact.
I had a similar experience with the line you describe when I had an O1 visa to work in the US. The mounds of paper, products and pleas of the people definitely made me realize my privilege.
And in the US, even having a visa or a green card does not exempt you from interrogation. I have experienced this firsthand.
This was a nice reminder. I've had 60+ years crossing borders, and most often, because of my privileges, it is indeed a formality. But it wasn't always, and sometimes it isn't now. There's always a level of unpredictability. Your piece reminded me of a night spent at JFK immigration about 3 years ago. My wife and I arrived at midnight. Here Global Entry had expired, but she had a provisional, and they purportedly would do an appointment for renewal in person. So, given that our flight wasn't until 11am the next morning, we asked and were sent down immigrations hallways to the desks (like a police department bullpen). There we were told to wait. So we did. We spent the next three hours watching the Immigration team deal with those in the slow lane. Those with stories and no papers; with stack and stacks of papers, but no credible stories; with families and all of their earthly belongings, claiming their purpose was a visit to Niagara Falls; with stacks of unexplained currency. When all else was decided, they got around to asking my wife a few perfunctory questions before renewing her Global entry. By this time it was indeed too late to go to the hotel, and we decided to go claim our bags, and watch the sunrise from the terminal, and count our privileged blessings.
Thanks for sharing this story, and very well said.
I am Italian and my wife is Ecuadorian, I really feel this post
Thanks, glad you enjoyed it Flavio. My wife and I similarly have mixed passports and is a layer I hadn’t even added to this piece and it does have an impact.