The Time Brian played with HM Passport Control and Customs Agents!
I write this as I hurtle at break neck speed towards Brighton.
This week has been anything but boring and without stories, today of course wanted to up the ante of what not boring could really look like.
First on my flight which was very nice as I had three seats to myself, was a woman from Slovenia who was being deported to the UK (as that was the last country that had accepted her prior to her attempt to gain entry to the US. Well she spent the first half of the flight ranting and raving about the crimes INS had committed against her as an EU citizen, and that she had done nothing to be deported, (which might I add came immediately, they didn't even let her past passport control.)
What likely happened is she thought Slovenia was included under the US Visa Waiver program, which a majority of EU member nations are, but the EU collectively is not. So that was fun.
Then it was my turn. I must've gotten the head Passport checker as she went through my entire passport and read me the riot act saying I must've lied to previous agents and that I should have had a year long visa and that she didn't know how I was granted leave for entry to begin with. (which is all correct and I should rightfully be on another trans-atlantic flight as both my visa is expired now [from my stolen passport] and I'm not in a six month course, after I extended it for the full year.I sort of had an "oh god" gut reaction when I was walking to the train station last week, but discounted it as both Brian's tired and I had stamps! Lots of Stamps! Opps!
Anyway after a good talking to and me losing all colour in my face and getting a stamp saying she told me off, I was sent on my way to Baggage claim, where a whole team of customs officials were gleefully awaiting for me.
Now I certainly did not smuggle into the UK large amounts of food and beverage, That would be wrong and stupid. And I certainly did not smuggle in melatonin which although happily legal in Ameri-cah is a prescription drug here. But in a hypothetical situation where I was nearly just deported and was in fact smuggling large amounts of everything it would be my luck that HM had given out the quotas for the month and her officials were delighted in the prospect to ruin someone's day, i.e. me.
Fun Fun Fun.
So anywho get my bags and proceed to the nothing to declare sector because I figured I had nothing to declare that I wanted seized. On either side of the gate though were a few of HM customs officials gleefully (as I said) picking people out of the crowd to rummage through their unmentionables pulling out bits of string and paper no doubt and then give them a good talking to.
Thankfully I squeaked by no thanks to the two fuckwads in front of me who thought the section was the start of a tour route through which they should casually glide, savouring each and every moment to relay back to their friends and family when they eventually return from the 6 month visit of the North and South Terminals of Gatwick Airport. No doubt accompanied with cases and cases of slides
Oh well, I guess I can never say that being a white male has never done me secret favours (let's pretend this is the first time I've ever depended on looking like what a 'good law abiding citizen' should look like. to squeak by.)
So now I'm not allowed to leave the UK until I leave the UK and have a pretty stamp that says I was told off, but I suppose this is another example of the perks of privilege and no doubt even a bit of dumb luck.
[As an aside, I just realised this makes me out to be such a criminal]
This week has been anything but boring and without stories, today of course wanted to up the ante of what not boring could really look like.
First on my flight which was very nice as I had three seats to myself, was a woman from Slovenia who was being deported to the UK (as that was the last country that had accepted her prior to her attempt to gain entry to the US. Well she spent the first half of the flight ranting and raving about the crimes INS had committed against her as an EU citizen, and that she had done nothing to be deported, (which might I add came immediately, they didn't even let her past passport control.)
What likely happened is she thought Slovenia was included under the US Visa Waiver program, which a majority of EU member nations are, but the EU collectively is not. So that was fun.
Then it was my turn. I must've gotten the head Passport checker as she went through my entire passport and read me the riot act saying I must've lied to previous agents and that I should have had a year long visa and that she didn't know how I was granted leave for entry to begin with. (which is all correct and I should rightfully be on another trans-atlantic flight as both my visa is expired now [from my stolen passport] and I'm not in a six month course, after I extended it for the full year.I sort of had an "oh god" gut reaction when I was walking to the train station last week, but discounted it as both Brian's tired and I had stamps! Lots of Stamps! Opps!
Anyway after a good talking to and me losing all colour in my face and getting a stamp saying she told me off, I was sent on my way to Baggage claim, where a whole team of customs officials were gleefully awaiting for me.
Now I certainly did not smuggle into the UK large amounts of food and beverage, That would be wrong and stupid. And I certainly did not smuggle in melatonin which although happily legal in Ameri-cah is a prescription drug here. But in a hypothetical situation where I was nearly just deported and was in fact smuggling large amounts of everything it would be my luck that HM had given out the quotas for the month and her officials were delighted in the prospect to ruin someone's day, i.e. me.
Fun Fun Fun.
So anywho get my bags and proceed to the nothing to declare sector because I figured I had nothing to declare that I wanted seized. On either side of the gate though were a few of HM customs officials gleefully (as I said) picking people out of the crowd to rummage through their unmentionables pulling out bits of string and paper no doubt and then give them a good talking to.
Thankfully I squeaked by no thanks to the two fuckwads in front of me who thought the section was the start of a tour route through which they should casually glide, savouring each and every moment to relay back to their friends and family when they eventually return from the 6 month visit of the North and South Terminals of Gatwick Airport. No doubt accompanied with cases and cases of slides
Oh well, I guess I can never say that being a white male has never done me secret favours (let's pretend this is the first time I've ever depended on looking like what a 'good law abiding citizen' should look like. to squeak by.)
So now I'm not allowed to leave the UK until I leave the UK and have a pretty stamp that says I was told off, but I suppose this is another example of the perks of privilege and no doubt even a bit of dumb luck.
[As an aside, I just realised this makes me out to be such a criminal]