IMMIGRATION IRRITATION

I have no problem admitting that I get along well with others.  I say the right things to make people feel comfortable, I give compliments freely, I ask questions and then listen to the answers, I'm quick to get a joke in here and there, I speak without issues in front of small and large audiences and I understand how to work a situation to my advantage without compromising my personality.  I've even been called overly-confident with others, which I took as a compliment.  I pride myself in knowing I made a grumpy old black priest smile in the middle of a strict high school classroom speech on student etiqette and behaviour -proudest moment of my grade twelve year.  I'm really not one of those people who gets nervous and sweats when put in a social situation. I can handle it all.  Or so I thought.  I thought I could handle it all but was sorely mistaken with the first of many experiences with the lovely and wonderful United States Customs officers.  

As many of you may already know, I was stopped in Toronto by a U.S customs agent on my way to Fort Lauderdale after a short visit away from the boat in November.  Unfortunately, I ended up suffering from a severe case of verbal diarrhea when asked a few very simple and direct questions.  I hadn't anticipated spewing our entire travel story (despite continual reminders from my parents about using one word answers with these guys)  and before I knew what was happening, I was succumbing to all of the officers questions concerning work, vacation, money, family, friends our home address, you name it.  Those American Customs agents now know the first name of my principle at James Fowler High School, (sorry Keith...p.s you might be getting a phone call).  What initially got me into trouble was that I was asked whether or not my husband (who was still in Florida working on renovating the boat), was working?  The officer specifically asked me; "Is your husband working?" and I specifically answered; "Yes".  However, I failed to mention; "Yes, he's working on renovating our boat and not working for an American employer".  Mistake number one.  So, the officers face goes from reading the computer screen to slowing turning his head in my direction and looking at me straight in the eyes.  He then asks:  "But how is your husband working without an American work visa?"  Oh dear goodness.  

To make a long story short, I'll just tell you that I was held in a holding room for over two hours BY MYSELF, and questioned by another officer.  I swear it was like straight out of a movie.  The only thing that was missing was a long monologue confessing murder.  The room had a two way mirror which faced a single gray chair.  There was even a glass of water sitting in the middle of a hard gray table teasing me about talking so damn much to the first customs guy.  I bet you want to drink me Kate, come on, you know you want a little sip...especially after all that blabbing.  Take a little drink...aren't you thirsty?   Your throat must me so dry.  You know you want me.  Come on.  Damn you water!!  So, after a few tears, a flash of nervous frustration involving a high pitched teenage squeak from my twenty-eight year old voice box, some sweating, and a failed attempt at making the agent smile with a totally cute joke, I got through the boarder inspection interrogation.

The next wonderful experience with a U.S customs agent occured only four weeks later when Nathan and I went on a lovely trip with the in-laws to Mexico; but this time, Nate and I were prepared.  We had our story totally straight right down to dates and times, and our future plans.  It was all good...or so I thought.  We arrived in Fort Lauderdale from Cancun - a major drug capital of Mexico, yes, the universe has a sense of humor, only to be told directly from the first customs officer that we needed to accompany him into yet another holding room.  But I thought to myself, this is all okay because Nate and I are together.  Thank GOD he was with me this time, especially since I told him that he had to do all of the talking cause I get too nervous with these hard core cops.  So, we're escorted into this cramped holding room, were we waited patiently for 2 1/2 hours with a massive group of friendly Haitian and Jamaican immigrants.  (Two of these things are not like the others).  We're told that our names will be called and that we'll be questioned soon enough.  What we didn't realize is that they would be questioning us separately and that I would be going first...my first thought...what?!?!  They're splitting us up?!?!?!  NO!!!!!  "Kathryn Alberta Weiland, please follow me into my wonderful world of blunt, rude and uncomfortable questions where you will be nervous and sweating.  Your husband can stay seated cause we know your plan".  But after all of the questions, all of the sweating, all of the nervous butterflies that we both had, once again, we got through the boarder inspection interrogation...but just barely.

Finally, our last and most recent gong show with the agents.  THIS time, we were completely ready, in fact, we were even looking at the whole situation like a game.  Which one of us could convince the U.S customs officer that we weren't smuggling drugs, working illegally, or planning some sort of terrorist attack in the least amount of time??? Winner takes all and all = Beer.  But it was no surprise when Nate won.  In fact, the third time, I didn't even get asked any questions.  I'm convinced it was because I looked so naturally innocent, they just assumed that the husband was the one with all the answers.  Either that, or they had on file that I cried and sweat profusely and tried to deliver a stupid joke back in Toronto in November and weren't even going to try with me.  Regardless, we got through the third and hopefully final boarder inspection interrogations...

So, here we are, enjoying days in the sunshine on our beautiful boat in the crystal clear blue warm waters of the Atlantic ocean.  I sorta feel like a woman who is constantly getting away with eating Nibs and Oreos and not gaining any weight.  On January 31st, we'll be meeting up with Mom and Dad Hoyda in Nassau for two weeks and then off to a few hundred other islands in the sun.   Even with all of the trials, errors, mistakes and tears, I can definitely say that this trip is definitely worth it.