#immigration hell

y'all want proof of my life here?

here's 5 pages and 1580 words spanning 17 years

snatches of memory --

at the US embassy in the country my parents are stationed at, a lady gets YELLED AT by a consul officer for even daring to apply for a visa when she hasn't gone to any other country before.

at the same embassy (though not the same day or even year) an entire family is fervently praying the rosary while in line so their visas get approved.

still the same embassy, another applicant gets yelled at so loudly that everyone hears. "DENIED!" is announced into the microphone and it's like the smack of a guillotine. the applicant is humiliated, red-faced. he's demanding to know why. there is no answer. the guards forcefully take him away.

in the immigration line, somewhere in western europe. i'm twenty and some years. the lady asks me "where are your parents?" and i try to be polite and say "ma'am my birthday is on my passport...which is in your hands" and she looks at me like i'm dirt.

in the immigration line about to leave the land of my ancestors, the officer says, "why are you going to the US? you're too young to travel alone. where is your green card? do you have a job there? when are you coming back?"

first time traveling alone and my parents warn me SO many times - "do not make the immigration officers angry. they can send you back. they don't need an excuse. do NOT test them."

US immigration officers wanting to know how much money you've got in your pockets. they take you to a secluded little room at the airport and make you count out all the 100-dollar bills your parents had given you. you're scared to death the entire time.

they make me walk barefoot across the airports for years. they search beards, pockets, yell A VISA DOES NOT GRANT YOU ENTRY, WE WILL STILL DECIDE WHETHER YOU CAN ENTER so loudly your ears ring.

my baby sister's blanket is flung into the x-ray machine. even the babies need to get tested so they don't compromise homeland security.

it's post-9/11 but the tragedy is fresh as an open wound. i'm once more in line at new jersey. point of entry. i'm a teenager, but not cocky, especially not at airports. they separate the kids from the parents. no ma'am, they get interviewed alone. keep behind the yellow line. my parents are terrified. my sister is 7 months old and my mom keeps a death grip on her stroller. my brother is 8 and wide-eyed, the tips of his sneakers just touching the yellow line. they ask me what i'm doing in the US. i tell them it's home. my grandfather has cancer. he's in texas. he's expecting me. they say, are you telling me the truth? or did your parents tell you to say that?