Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Christopher’s Manchester Weblog - Summer 2005 - Tuesday June 21 - Day 1 - Man without a Country
Promise to the reader - I am not making this up!
Greetings from Manchester,
I am alive and well in beautiful sunny Manchester. Would have written Day 1 and 2 on Tuesday, but jet lag won out and I basically slept from 1pm Tuesday Manchester time til 4 this morning, and again from 830 to 1030.
I am sure that you are all waiting with baited breath for the story of my travel. You know, one of these times, I will have to make up a story, so that you have something interesting to read…but not this time.
The trip began Monday with Tanya and I riding up to Denver. Great time to visit for the last time for a month. She dropped me off at the Park-N-Ride on Parker/I-225, where I caught the bus to the airport. Good deal - $6 for the trip and they even put your luggage on the bus for you (the driver looked at me like I was transporting my twin in my suitcase).
The perfect time to check in at United! 9:10am and I went straight up to the check-in desk. Nice woman, told me I could probably catch any of the three early flight to Chicago if I wanted. I did. So, through security and to Concourse B. Caught the 10:35 flight to Chicago, with no problems, no snafus, not even a hiccup.
I do however want to know why it is that, no matter when you land at O’Hare, you always seem to spend 20 minutes driving around trying to find a gate. Now, if I was running late, I would have been sweating, but since it was still five hours til my flight took off for Manchester, why worry.
Grabbed lunch and then off to the Red Carpet Club. I have received two passes to the RC Club and decided to use one during my lengthy stay there in Chicago. Went in. Truthfully, nothing to write home about…well, except having comfortable chairs, free fruit, and the only bathroom in the airport I would use except under duress. Spent the next few hours working away on the internet, reading, and relaxing.
At around 5pm I started my trek to Terminal M, the international terminal. Got through security without a snag (do you wonder if they ever find anything?) and to Gate 16. There I checked in with BMI, fluttered my eyelashes, spoke kindly, and got upgraded to Economy Plus! Not bad considering it was a guy checking me in! Economy Plus on BMI means almost the same amount of legroom as an Exit Row, so I was very happy!
Boarded and got settled. The man sitting next to me…from Colorado Springs…going to Glasgow to teach Prayer Training…at a Bible College….he’s 65 and serve with Youth With a Mission. Talk about an interesting seat mate. Talked for almost the first two hours. He’s been everywhere. Interesting life. Great for passing the time.
Smooth flight…except I didn’t sleep but about an hour. Watched Hitch and Hotel Rwanda, ate dinner, ate ice cream, ate breakfast. All and all, a great trip.
Landed in Manchester ten minutes early, de-planed, said goodbye to my seatmate and headed to Immigration Control. Hey, first in line. Great, get through here, pick-up my luggage, I have a ride waiting (my professor) get to my room and still have time to go shopping for food before I crash…
Well, that was the plan at least….
You know how you can look at a clerk or a civil servant and you know, you just know, that if you get this person instead of the other two options, that things wont go smoothly? Well, I was looking at this individual, the last one in the row of immigration workers, and saying to myself, “Boy, I hope I don’t get that guy.” Yep, “Next please.” So I walk over to the man. Nice smile on my face. I am very polite and cheery. Didn’t work.
Immigration Officer: “Excuse me,” he says. “But student visas are limited to six months.”
Me: “Well, I haven’t been here for six months yet.”
IO “But your started in May 2003.”
Me “Yes, and I will finish next June.”
IO “That is three years. That is longer than 6 months.”
Me “Yes, but I have only been here 16 total weeks.”
IO “That is not how I see it.”
Me “Well, I do most of my school work in the States, and only come each year for 8 weeks.”
IO “I thought you said 16 weeks.”
Me “Yes, two years for 8 weeks.”
IO “You are changing your story! You said three years earlier.”
Me “Umm, well I still have a year to go. I hope its only a year. You see I am just finishing my rough draft of my thesis.”
IO “So it might be longer than 3 years?”
Me “It could be, but I sure hope not.”
IO “So you are changing your story again?”
Me “No, not at all. I come ever year for 8 weeks, and I am supposed to finish in three years.”
IO “I don’t show in your passport that you left after your December 2004 trip.”
Me “I did. After all, I am coming in now from America. Isn’t there a stamp from US Immigration in January 05?”
IO “I don’t see one. Did you enter the United States legally in January?”
Me “Yes! I a native-born citizen. Of course I did.”
IO “Let me have the passport and take a seat over there. I don’t think I can allow you into the country. I will review your case with my supervisor when I finish with the cue.”
So, I take a seat in front of the podium, look behind me, and see a cue that looks like one of those Ellis Island lines from 1903. Literally all the way back into the terminal. I also notice that the wonderful IO that I went to grills everyone like they look suspiciously like Usama Bin Laden. I wait. I wait. I wait. The line gets smaller. Then a new flight arrives. The line gets bigger. I wait. I wait. Line shrinks. New flight. Line grows. You get the picture. I am, a man without a country. I am now a citizen of “The Outcast Cue”
Ninety minutes later, the IO calls to me, and I am taken to the, don’t you love this name, “Immigration Holding” room. I have no passport. No luggage. No ride. No phone, and I am sitting in the room with two other people, one a man of Arab descent and the other a woman who is Caribbean (she had lost her passport). I sit, while my IO is talking to his supervisor. The supervisor looks like he came straight out of the Javert (from Les Miserables) school of public administration. They talk, keep pointing at me, and eventually (10 minutes) come out to interview me.
IO “You claim to be a PhD student?”
Me “Yes, I am in my last year.”
Super “With only 8 weeks of school?”
Me “Yes, I do most of my work in the States, but come over here for 8 weeks per year, for a total of 24 weeks in three years.”
Super “Why don’t you have a passport stamp from re-entry into the United States after your December trip?
Me “I do.”
Super to IO “Let me see that.”
Super “You right, you re-entered on January 23rd”
IO to me “Did you just stamp that?”
Me “Umm, no, I have been waiting right here.”
Super, now seeming to realize that his IO is not the brightest bulb in the refrigerator
“Oh, I think I see now. So, you will only be here for a total of 24 total weeks? If that is the case, then let me stamp this.” Stamps my passport “If you should need additional time in your PhD you will need to apply for a different VISA. You can go.”
Me “Thanks!!!” Grab passport and quickly stroll to the customs area where my luggage has been paraded for all to see for the past two hours.
Grab luggage, sprint to the reception area. No Dr. Noble. For some reason he didn’t wait for me for two hours.
Now, it costs 10 pounds for a taxi to the college, and they take you from the airport to your front door. It takes 1 pounds 55 to get from the airport to East Didsbury, which is a mile and half from the college. Guess which option I chose.
Off to the train station. Dig through my bags to find two pounds, get ticket. Wait from train. Start figuring out that two bags and a backpack are a lot to carry. Move things around, strap one bag to my big rolling suitcase. Empty backpack into the suitcase. Catch train.
Try and pull large, 100 pounds plus luggage onto train. Pull and tug. Shoe comes off. Shoe falls into gap between train and station. I look at the conductor. He shakes head and tells me, “Don’t try and grab it, I will get it.” As if I am about to put my hand down on railroad tracks! Okay, I considered it briefly.”
Conductor fishes out shoe. Helps me with bags upto train.
Eight minutes later we pull into the East Didsbury stop. Tug luggage off train (this time shoes are tightly bound to feet.” Its now 10:15, I am dog tired, its rainy and humid. Can feel exhaustion growing. Right across from the train platform is the Tesco. Decide that there is no way I am going to stay awake long enough to stroll to the College and then back again. Decide to shop first.
So, me, my backpack and my luggage go shopping. Nice time shopping. Pick up all my supplies – sandwiches, tea, crisps, water, and of course cider. Check out. The clerk looks at me like I clearly have forgotten I have my luggage with me. “Just back from holiday?” “Umm, no, you?” He checks me out, I pack my groceries, and head to the front of the store. Now I pack all my groceries into my suitcase and backpack. Now, only a mile and half to go to get to the college.
Needless to say my luggage now way as much as I do. I could of course take a bus at least a mile of the way, but figuring that I will never get the suitcase onto or off of the bus (trust me, the driver does not help), I decide to hoof it. After all, its just a mile and a half. I ran 20+ miles twice at Hood-to-Coast with just as little sleep.
Sometime I push. Sometimes I pull. Sometimes the luggage topples. Sometimes it get stuck. I keep hearing the dreadful sound of luggage plastic being scraped on the asphalt. First half a mile. Then a mile. Blister are forming on my hands and feet. I am covered head-to-toe in sweat. Still I press on (because, after all, what choice do I have). Finally I pull into the college. Exhausted I go to the door of the dorm. Its locked. I knock. No one answers. I see a window open. I climb in. I land. I relax. I remember my luggage, in the rain, getting wet. I open the door, pull my first bag towards it. It closes. I still don’t have the code. I climb through the window again. I open the door, I pull and drag my stuff in. I collapse on my bed. I have arrived – passport and all.
So, that is how I got to England. Like I said, no problems. Needless to say, after being sick before I left and all the effort to get my stuff here to room, I was dog tired. So I slept all yesterday and now am just about to go to the Boots to get my some Ibuprofen with Codeine, because every muscle in my body hurts like crazy.
Weather is great. Tea is good. Mattress is bad. Miss you all.
Christopher
