This post will contain no pictures.
There is a reason for that.
On Friday, January 13, I arrived in London for the first time since the summer of 2009. It was also my first time entering the country since I had my United Kingdom application for a work VISA denied in 2010. Unfortunately, I made $200 too less than the income requirement that I needed to receive a UK work visa. I guess it was not meant to be.
Up until now, my international arrival experience has been the same in every developed yountry. Your plane lands and you enter a closed off corridor that leads you to border control. You make sure you have your entry card filled out. You stand in the “local” or foreigner line. A border control stamps your passport. Usually this doesn’t take longer than 30 minutes. The only time it did take longer than 30 minutes was when I lost my passport on the plane coming back to the US from Paris. The US allowed me back into the country.
My London arrival experience will go down as the scariest one ever.
When I arrived in the Passport Control Hall, the diversity of the people was quite surprising. The line for UK residents mirrored the line for non UK residents – extremely diverse. Of course there were Americans, Asians and South Africans. But there were also a TON of people from Africa.
I wanted to so badly take a picture of the people. I had truly never seen an international arrival hall as diverse as this one. Not even in Paris.
This line was also the longest border line I had ever encountered. It took me almost an hour just to snake my way up to the UK border agent. As I walked around the barriers, I noticed that there was a row of chairs where about six people–all of African descent–sat looking desolate and confused.
When I finally arrived at the front of the line, I was assigned an UK border lady of African descent. Cool!”
UK Border Lady – “Hi How are you” ”What are you here for?”
Me – “Vacation.” (Okay it’s working vacation in which I spend alot of money to be in their country and don’t make money a.k.a. travel writing).
UK Border Lady – “You are a writer. How long have you been a writer?”
Me – “I’ve always been a writer.” (I really have ALWAYS been a writer.)
As she got ready to stamp my passport, something on the screen caught her eye.
I knew exactly what it was.
In 2010 I had applied to get a UK Work Visa. I got rejected. I’m absolutely sure that if I put the application in two weeks earlier, I would have gotten approved. But it wasn’t meant to be.
When I look back on what I have done in the last two years, I don’t regret anything. It just wasn’t God’s plan for me to live in the most culturally diverse city in the world, or work for the London 2012 Olympic Committee.
Back to UK Border lady.
UK Border Lady – “Who are you staying with?”
Me – “My friend”
UK Border Lady – “How much money do you have for the trip?”
Me – “I budgeted about $2,000. (I wish this would really cover my entire trip)”
UK Border Lady – “Do you have all of it with you.”
Me – ” No. It’s in my bank account. (Do I look dumb enough to carry $2,000 on me?)”
UK Border Lady - “Can you prove to me that you have it in your bank account?”
Me -”Yep”
UK Border Lady – “What is the telephone number of the person you are staying with?” ”I’m going to have to go into the back to research this. I’m going to give you this piece of paper which gives me the right to keep you here. Sign this sheet and this will allow us to keep you here until we figure everything out.”
WHAT!
I’ll admit that I was getting a little perturbed.
With that little piece of paper, I joined the other blacks who were also having their immigration questions and issues sorted out.
I sat there for 30 minutes until the border control agent returned.
UK Border Lady -”I have talked to your host and he told me why you are here.”
Wow. They really called my host! Okay.
UK Border Lady – “I’m going to stamp your passport but remember that you cannot work while you are here. We do not let people back into the country if you work illegally.”
Wasn’t that SCARY!!!!
Thank God I made it into Great Britain!
