I went to England this weekend to work with Gigi's aunt and uncle on their mastif kennel. I was so excited to have something to focus on, and I would get to play with huge dogs too...
Like this one:
This is Twelve, he's from Italy.
Well at any rate, I flew to Stansted, London from Limoges, France and it only took a little over an hour. When I got there I went up to customs and did the stupidest thing ever, I told the truth. I had been so excited about this for a while, and I have been telling everyone about it. So when the customs lady asked me what I was doing in England I answered, "Staying with the in-laws, In fact I'm helping them work with their dogs until they hire a new aupair." They said they were sorry but they needed to further investigate my stay in England. They don't let people in to work and I should have known better to tell them about that. I even told them it wasn't paid, it was just me helping out my aunt and uncle. That doesn't fly either. Another big flag I believe was that I am currently unemployed.
They brought me over to a counter to search my belongings. I was very surprised what they questioned me about. They pulled out my gloves which are old construction gloves that I got from the new 35W bridge. They said they looked quite worn, and I said yeah, I've had them for a while. I also had all my French homework, and in all those papers I had blank work visa papers for France. That sucked. I have since thrown those away in disgust.
The odd thing was that they were so sweet the whole time. They probably knew from the second I opened my mouth I was gonna be deported.
They brought me to the detention center at the airport and put me in a "interview room." They asked me all the same questions again and took my finger prints and a few pictures and searched my person. Nothing invasive, which was a bummer.
They then put me in an even bigger room with a few people who sat around looking very pissed off, and playing on the TV was Hot Fuzz, the English movie about police. I thought it was ironic.
It wasn't long after I sat down they came down hard with the second round of questioning, "Do you want something to eat? Something to drink? Candy? Coffee? Tea? Juice? Crisps? We have sandwiches, do you want a sandwich?" They were more hospitable than anything I had ever experienced. I actually thought they were trying to drug me or something. In the middle of Hot Fuzz they pulled me back out and told me I wasn't going to be let into the country, and that I will be staying in this room until 8 the next morning. Needless to say I was PISSED! I was being really cooperative and nice to everyone, but then I turned on a dime.
The thing about the hospitality was that it was coming from the people holding me, immigration, and not customs who had denied my entry into the country. So, even though I was pissed, the people who I was surrounded by had nothing to do with me not getting in, so they didn't deserve my attitude.
Time passed really slowly and people came and went all day. I watched 6 movies and finished my book "Franny and Zooey". I watched Hot Fuzz, and a bizarre documentary on the Rolling Stones called Sympathy for the Devil. It was messed up, it started with girls in white night gowns being murdered by militants, and then it had a comic book store run by Nazis. I was the one to put it in, and after it got really weird I asked everyone if I could change it. Everyone stared blankly at me. No one spoke english. As I went to change it, a man in his fifties stopped me and gave me a thumbs up as two militants fought over an unconscious girl on the TV screen. I kept my eye on him for the rest of my stay. After that I watched The Great Escape in Italian with an Italian dude. I watched Top Gun, and then Mission Impossible Two. Two Tom Cruise Movies back to back. It was then I knew I was in Jail. Oh, and The Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe was somewhere in there. I didn't make it long enough to watch West Side Story and, my favorite movie as a child, The Flight of the Navigator, so I stole them. You know, just to show England what happens when they deport Alex Finseth.
To sleep I pushed two benches together so I wouldn't fall in my sleep. I finally dozed off around 1 as the "guards," if that what you would call them, started a Denzel Washington Movie. I woke up around 4 to them playing Trouble, and that god damn dice bouncing around its little dome over and over again. I asked them if they would stop and they looked at me blankly for way too long and kept playing.
They eventually had a shift change and got me ready for my plane. They went off and checked my bag for me. They told me that I wouldn't get my passport back until I landed in France, and that I should just ask the flight attendant for it. That's when I recalled a conversation we had about their procedure when they were deporting some one. More often then not, if you ask for your passport, they just give it back, but if you are going to be arrested or shuffled around more they won't give it back. That haunted me for a while.
Victor, his peers call him Jesus because he was a priest or something, brought me to my plane. He actually was ordained in Minnesota, and right after they told me I wasn't getting into the country I went and laid down on a bench, he called me into his office area and asked me "Do you recognize this?" It was his MN state ID. I was so angry that all I could say was, "That's great," and I pivoted on my heal and went and laid down again. I felt bad, he's really sweet, but I was in no mood to be cordial. I felt like all these people had this job of watching deportees just so they could have friend for a few hours who couldn't go anywhere.
Well, he brought me to my plane, and walked me past the whole line of people waiting to get on the plane, so I got a seat before anyone else. I felt privileged. We flew back, and as we were getting off the plane I asked a flight attendant for my passport back. They told me that the pilot wanted to speak to me. I started freaking out that they weren't going to give me my passport back and they were going to deport me back to the States. I popped my head into the cockpit, and he said, "You're Alex?"
"Yeah I'm Alex"
"Oh you're a Finseth. Are you Norwegian?"
"Yeah, I'm from Minnesota, but I'm of Norwegian decent"
"Oh, I'm Norwegian. Your name is popular there"
"Oh"
"Well here's your passport"
All I could do was thank God that I had my passport in my hand, and as I stepped back from the cockpit there's customs again right their with their guns, and they want my passport. Shit. They sit me down as the rest of the plane unloads. They ask me why I was sent back to France, and I told them thats where I came from. They hold onto my Passport and ask me to follow them. Double shit. We take a long walk into the airport and there is the whole plane load again standing in line. Customs walk me past all of the passengers again. We get to baggage claim and they ask if I had a bag, and told me to grab it. I grab it and they hand me my passport and told me to have a nice day. SCORE! Home free.
It was a long process that I don't want to do again. I spent $200 bucks for two plane rides and a bunch of shitty sandwiches. Thank God they didn't ask me to pay for my ticket home. Apparently it was on RyanAir.
Oddly, for the longest time, I thought this was a prank that Aunt Jo was pulling on me, because I got her really good when we stayed with her a couple weeks ago. She threatened to get me back so bad, and I felt this would have been appropriate punishment, but no it wasn't her prank, so I still have that to look forward to as well.
Now to move on to the next thing, because there is no chance in hell I'm going to be able to get back into England this year.
c'est la vie.
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