USA: Customary Interrogation

After a smooth and uneventful flight to Seattle, I did not anticipate the harsh grilling I was to receive at US customs and immigration. Never in all my global travels have I been delayed for so long at the passport processing area. I was greeted to the US by a nod and a curt hello. Then I had to give fingerprints and a photograph. Thirty minutes later they were still questioning me in depth about seemingly every detail of my life. Already they had asked for specific information on my job history, educational background, hobbies and interests and romantic history. They even asked me to identify my father's company logo and give his office postal code. They asked me to explain every single stamp in my passport, and then they started asking about my American host, Caleb. What he does, what he did, his romantic history - I was almost expecting them to ask next what colour underwear I'm wearing, and how I like to eat my Cadbury's Cream Eggs.

It occured to me that maybe the U.S. doesn't actually want any tourists, as they were doing a pretty good job of making me feel like some kind of dodgy criminal. One of the questions on the immigration landing form was "Are you now or have you ever been involved in mass genocide?" I thought it was a joke at first! It's a shame that people have to go through intimidation like this just for the opportunity to enter the country and support its tourism economy. I'm so pleased I don't have to go through that again anytime soon!

Needless to say, I went straight to the bar when I arrived in Seattle for my one night stop over. I was thrilled to be asked for I.D. "Wow," I said, "I haven't been asked for I.D. since I was sixteen." Two beers, and four martinis later I felt much better (and who wouldn't) and crashed out, tired, shaken and just a little bit stirred.