On Vacation - A Mini Series

Episode One - Welcome to America.

Whenever I have to fill in one of those questionnaires which asks about hobbies and interests, I always state Travel. It’s not exactly a hobby, after all you can hardly dabble in a bit of ‘travel’ while waiting for the washing machine cycle to finish, but it is something I am interested in. The truth is, of course,  that I like being on holiday – which makes me sound rather shallow, where as ‘travel’ conjures up an image of an intrepid adventurer who relishes in the prospect of exploring the unknown (not me at all).

We had booked our Caribbean cruise way back in the summer as a winter pick-me-up, a glowing beacon of light in the middle of the Dutch winter.  We always knew the first day of our trip was going to be the worst – contrary to my ‘explorer’ persona, I can’t think of anything worse than hanging around airports for hours on end, and unfortunately another of life’s great unanswered questions (along with why there is a lack of yeast in the Netherlands) is why are there no direct flights from Amsterdam to Miami?

However, our journey started off relatively smoothly.  After a mere two hour wait for our connecting flight at Heathrow we set off on the second leg, full of excited anticipation at that hot Caribbean sunshine awaiting for us.

US Immigration is always a pain. From past experiences we knew to pencil in at least an hour’s wait before exiting Miami airport. This time I was travelling on an ESTA, whilst Mr T still possessed his full US visa, so on arrival we headed off in two separate directions with the promise of meeting up again in the baggage hall. I joined a long line of holiday-makers directed towards the automated ESTA reading machines, which subsequently rejected my fingerprints four times before re-directing me to another long line at the manual immigration desk. As the minutes began to tick slowly by I could picture Mr T’s growing impatience in the baggage hall.  Finally passing the magic test, I skipped the opportunity for a trip to the restroom – there would be time for that later when I had met up with Mr T, and hurried downstairs to the baggage re-claim, only to discover I had in fact beaten him to it. I smugly grabbed the suitcases and waited. And waited.

Two hours later and I was still waiting, so wishing now that I had taken that toilet stop earlier on.  At least Mr T had had the good sense to send me a text to explain his delay….he was being detained for individual interview. I immediately imagined the worse –  was it because he had all his visits to Saudi Arabia stamped in his passport? Was it because he had recently travelled to India? No! It was because he had a US visa, and although this entitled him to work in the US, it didn’t entitle him to take a holiday.

The subsequent outcome was that he too needed an ESTA which seemed a totally ridiculous scenario considering the amount of paperwork you have to complete and hoops you have to jump through to get a work visa and more or less anyone can apply for an ESTA on line (as long as you don’t put a tick in the box that asks if you have ever been convicted of terrorism offences…) However,   as Mr T later agreed, it’s best not to argue with these people.

It was by now nearly midnight. The baggage hall was deserted apart from myself and an Hispanic woman whose travelling companion had obviously fallen victim to the same fate. At least she had the luxury of being able to converse with the few remaining members of staff as we perched uncomfortably on the edge of a baggage carousel. There was no other form of seating (even the staff perched on empty trolleys).

Finally, three hours after we had landed, to my huge relief Mr T emerged victorious into the baggage hall, clutching his ESTA.  A severe test of patience. And bladder control.  I could finally abandon the cases and head to the bathroom.