I know this is incredibly belated, but I've been working on other things. Namely, not blogging. No excuses today though, and I'm trying to get stuff cleared off my to-do list. The first part of my saga of trying to get to England is here.
Right, so where I left off, I had just checked in. I think. I hate Atlanta airport, but not as much as other airports I've been to (Vegas comes to mind, and O'Hare if you're arriving from international flights and transferring to domestic). But minus having to pull everything out of my two carry-on bags AGAIN, and take off my shoes, it wasn't too bad. That said, I don't encourage travelling with a laptop, and a PS2. Oddly enough, they don't want to see the external harddrive or the 3 iPods (yes, I am a geek, and if I had more money I'd have at least one of every model and version of the iPod that's ever been made), but that PS2 and my thin little joy of an iBook, yeah, those I'm gonna use as bombs...
Anyways, the flight was relatively uneventful. Meaning at this point I don't really remember anything about it, including where I was sitting. Oh, yeah. As is typical for my bladder (Pavlovian training works on those, too, thanks Mom...) I have to pee whenever I leave the house. Good training for a small child, but can become problematic if over-enforced as the child grows up. Meaning now I have to pee anytime there might be a chance that I won't get to for 10 or more minutes. So shortly before our final approach I made the trip down the aisle. And yet, when I got off the plane about 30 minutes later, I was running for the loos in Manchester Airport. Which meant I was literally the second-to-last person in the non-UK passport/visa holders line. Which turned out to be ok, since I had to spend about 20 minutes (maybe more) being grilled by a border patrol agent.
Here's why this makes me so angry. I hate being treated like a criminal when there is no evidence to support that fact. I hate the assumption that I am entering a foreign country to find work illegally, or to illegally use the benefits of that country. First, I don't lie very well, so my trying to commit illegal acts is a rather poor idea. I tend to get caught. Second, I don't like breaking the law (yes, for me this includes speeding--I do it, but not like most people, and I at least recognize that I am breaking the law). Third, working in the UK is not exactly a glorious thing. Salaries here suck compared to the states, and with the aforementioned incompetence at breaking the law, I'd end up paying taxes on my wages in TWO countries. Yeah, that's right. The US is one of the only nations--if not THE only nation--to tax citizenship, not just residency. And they tax you at the same rate as if you're living in the US and using services there. So for every £1 I'd make here, I'd probably only take home about 20 pence. Maybe a bit more if the pay rate was really low. Plus, while I'm 100% in favour of a national universal health plan (one that you can't opt out of, unlike here), I'm not impressed with the doctors here. I've loved the nurses and nurse practitioners I've seen, but the doctors, well...the one actual doctor I saw was a douchebag. And I knew some medics while I was at the Uni of Leicester, and they were nice, but I don't like the idea of people entering their residency at age 22-23. In the states, you have to get a Bachelor's before entering med school, but here, you go straight in. That just makes me nervous--I prefer a bit more age and maturity.
So I digress yet again, but no, I'm not here to mooch off the system, and I don't like being indirectly accused of that. I also don't like being told that "The US would never allow *me* to enter the country for three months". Yeah, so? That's also patently not true. And don't act like the UK is the only "welfare state" (a phrase she used several times) on the planet. Additionally, she wanted to know how much money I had in my bank account (that is reasonable, as is the amount in my account) and how much cash I had on me. I still don't understand the point of that question. But I guess it was important because when I said "I can see a cash machine, which I was planning on using" that wasn't acceptable at all, but "About $40 and a few pounds" was fine. She also grilled me about why I was coming in on a tourist visa (because obviously that makes me a criminal) instead of getting a different type of visa. When I tried to tell her that I had looked at the other types of visas a few years ago and I wasn't eligable, she snapped at me that she didn't care about the past, why didn't I do it this time. That absolute rudeness (she interrupted me) almost made me lose it, but I manged to tell her that, while I understood she didn't care about the past, it mattered, because I did look to see if I had enough points to apply for a work visa, and I was about 25 points off in August 2006, and my circumstances had not changed between now and then. She had implied that were I only 5 points away it wouldn't be a big deal. Except I wasn't.
She also wanted to call Adam to verify my story, which was just great, since she wouldn't let me turn on my computer or my cell phone to get his number. Luckily, he was at the airport, so she just paged him to a phone and talked to him there. Apparently he backed up my story.
Our story by the way, which is 100% true, was this. We've been dating for over three years, having met in the Fencing Club at the Uni of Leicester. Most of our relationship has been long distance, but we think we might want to get married. However, until we live together for a while, we don't know if it will actually work out, seeing as how much of our relationship has been conducted via chat programs, the phone, and vacations. The reason I was moving to the UK instead of Adam moving to the states was economic--he has a job, I don't. Had I gotten a job, he probably would have moved to the states.
Oh, and at some point in all of this hassle, she accused me of changing my story. She claimed ("I have it written down right here") that I said that Adam bought my plane tickets. I know damned well I didn't say that, because that was never discussed as an option. So she either heard wrong, or she was trying to catch me in a lie. Of course I was smart enough to not say "no, you're wrong, I didn't say that and you need to listen and not assume". I did say "I'm sorry. I suppose I might have misspoken, but no, he didn't buy the plane tickets. That was never something we even thought him paying for." I didn't misspeak. I often do, but when I do it's generally because the misspeak may have been an option, or something I hoped for, etc.
Finally though, she let me into the country until the day of my return tickets, but NOT the full six month tourist visa. She wrote a case number in my passport, so that if Adam and I travelled anywhere I could give that number to the agent and they should let me back in without a problem (Dublin wasn't a problem; the agent saw that I had been stamped in at one point and waved me through). She also told me to take with me proof of my return tickets (which I wouldn't have had hard copies of for her if Delta hadn't cocked up). I did make a point of asking what would happen to me if Delta screwed up my flight again, and she said that would be beyond my control, so I wouldn't get in trouble.
Finally, I picked up my two heavy carry-ons, staggered through passport control trying to look contrite (and not pissed off), found Adam, grabbed a (free in the UK) luggage trolley, and loaded my two 49.9 pound (guess the weight limit) suitcases onto it. I immeadiately checked to make sure my precious Henckel 5 Star Pro knives hadn't been nicked out of my locked (and TSA opened) suitcase, and started on the interminably long walk from Terminal 1 to the airport train station. But at least I had Adam with me :)
And now, we have our own flat, complete with door-slamming neighbours. Who walk like elephants. And have lots of drunk, loud friends who leave at 11pm. Nightly.
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