15 December 2003

Immigration 101

On the next to the last day of our time in France we made the long drive up to Compiegne to get the cats from the cattery.  When Jay lugged the cat cages up the steps I was half afraid that Lucy and Christopher had forgotten me.  As soon as they saw me they started rubbing the metal cage doors to invite me to touch them.  Later, at the vet’s office I could see that they were looking pretty good, except for ear mites in one ear.  All of my worst fears had not come to be.  Now the real test was getting through immigration.

At the ferry bound for England, the ticket taker handed Jay the electronic scanner so he could run it over the cats’ necks to prove they had their correct chip numbers.  We both sighed as we climbed back into the car and were motioned to drive on to the ferry.

The English Channel was very rough that day and it took extra time to cross.  Once we were on the British side we were both feeling anxious, especially after our experience in August.  When we turned over our passports to the immigration officer she looked at us strangely and said, “Mr. Warmke, your wife and daughter will not be allowed back in to England today.”  The world came to a screeching halt.

After an hour of discussion she agreed to give me a two-month extension.  BUT, she forgot completely about the cats and motioned us on.  It wasn’t until we were out of the traffic, and on the autoroute that we truly realized the cats had made it through immigration, and without anyone looking at them.  I wanted to feel relieved but I wasn’t sure what to feel.

Within a few days I rode the train to London to the Home Office to try to straighten out the visa that I needed so I could stay in England.  Standing outside in a bitter wind in the "queue" as they say, lasted 2 hours.  The pink railings and purple walls that surrounded me as I waited in line were supposed to make me feel good about being treated like a sheep waiting to get in to a dangerous Disneyesk attraction. 

Once I was inside I went through security and waited for my turn to explain why I was there.  I had to get a number before I could actually speak to someone about my visa.  Just as I was about to get my turn, a man behind me, who had suddenly started talking very rapidly in Arabic called to the security guard to say that the man directly after me in line had no papers and didn't speak English.  He had just arrived in England from Turkey with nothing.  In unison the government folks said, "asylum" and jerked the man to get out of the line.

At the gatekeeper’s desk I was allowed to stand behind a safety glass.  I was told my certified marriage license didn't look American, meaning it might be fake so that caused quite a discussion, which included me saying, “Possibly you haven’t seen a certified Ohio marriage license before”.  Then I was told that I couldn't get my visa and would have to return another day.  I got so angry at being told to go home that I said, "no".  Finally the gatekeeper said she would allow me to go upstairs and apply for the visa for myself but I would have to return to do Cat's, and pay another 250 pounds.  All I could think of was two things:  First, I am not standing in the cold like that again and if I don't get this paper I will be chained to England until next summer because I can’t get back in if I leave.

She spoke to the person beside her and then said I could only get my documents today but she gave me #340 so I could go upstairs.  All I wanted was to get past her to someone else I might be able to convince.  At this point I was angry and feeling pretty gutsy, although I could have been kicked out of England right then and there.

Upstairs I paid the first 250 pounds then sat for two more hours while I waited for 60 people to go before me.  I ate my one remaining banana to keep from passing out (I am not kidding).  I was so cold that I never got warm in the waiting room.  Finally my turn came.  There were lots of questions and at one point I thought there was a problem, but I never mentioned what the first gatekeeper said.  I just answered the questions and waited quietly after each answer.  Living in France had taught me how to talk with people in these positions.  After 20 minutes the “real” immigration officer said she would agree to give us a visa so we could stay in England.  I could hardly keep from dancing right there in front of 200 people.

On the long train ride home there were no seats but I didn't care because I had everything I wanted in this life.  When I got home the cats came rushing into the kitchen to ask for their dinner, and Cat came racing home from the neighbor’s talking 90 miles an hour about school that day.  Jay gave me a big hug out of relief.  This is what I had been waiting for…all of us to be together, and all of us to be legal in England.  It’s the simple things that make life so amazingly good, and I think I have learned not to take a single one of them for granted.