Immigration3

Time to make another trip into the city. This time, we were even more prepared, both with paperwork and clothing. After our last episode, I had made my first visit to an American hospital as I had a bad bout of bronchitis. I wasn't about to repeat that!
   The 18th December at 5am, we were up and heading for the train. Come hell or high water, we were going to be among the first group shuffled into that room. Same train ride, same taxi ride, same queue???? What time did people get here??? We later found out that some arrive around 4am and in the summer, some sleep there for the night!
   Our wait outside wasn't as long this time, it was only about 3 hours before we were walking into the first room. While standing here, packed next to our neighbours, I noticed a man approach a security guard and flash a badge, thus gaining immediate access into the hallway along with his wife/girlfriend. Nudging Mike, I asked if he had his with him. He did, but it wasn't used, neither of us could, or would, have taken advantage of that badge.
   Another hour or so here and then we were making our way into the hall and the metal scanner. One step closer to achieving our goal! With a wait of around 30 mins in the hallway, I left Mike in our place and went outside for a cigarette. Standing outside, I watched, and felt for, an Asian woman pleading with a security guard, asking that she be allowed to enter the hallway. Tears streaming down her face, she said that her father was dying and that she was flying out that night to see him. The tall guard towered over this woman, and he looked down at her and said that there were to be no more applications that day. After quite some time of pleading and crying, eventually, the woman was let inside, much to my relief. I was almost at the point of offering her my place in the queue.

   I joined Mike and waited while he took his turn outside. Impeccable timing on his part as, on his return, we went through the scanner and into the last room before reaching the counter. Shuffling along, (shuffling was all anyone could do as we were still packed in tight), and an hour later it was our turn again. Oh dear, the same woman was sitting waiting to tend to our request. How could I get so lucky twice??? I say "I" because, even though Mike was with me, he was not allowed to approach the counter, instead, he was ordered to stay back.
   Confidently producing all the papers, I waited. She haughtily told me that they were not taking any more Advance Parole applications that day, their quota had been met. "What???" I was informed that Mr Lee had been instructed to go outside and tell those waiting that there would be no more Parole applications taken that day. Attempts to talk to her met with, "Next" and the next people in the queue did just that, came to the counter. We were totally ignored. Anger rising, Mike asked to see the supervisor. The supervisor herself had just walked by and when Mike went to talk to her, she told him that she was hungry and going for her lunch. (At least she had the opportunity to take the time to eat, those waiting in the queue didn't!). Placing her hand towards Mike's face, palm side up, she told him to "Talk to the hand". This came from a supervisor!!! This was professionalism???
   At this, she walked off, leaving us open mouthed. The young security guard had observed this and he spoke to Mike, asking us to wait in another room while he straightened it out for us. The security guard informed us that he knew we were in the building when those still outside, clutching parole applications, were told to go home. I doubt that we would have gone home too quietly though!.
   Around an hour later, the supervisor beckoned us to her cubicle. Taking our papers, she stamped them with the only words being spoken were to direct us to the cashier's office. Oh yes, we did pay for the privilege of applying for the Parole. And, if this Parole is denied, there would be no refund. Monies paid, we were sent to yet another room. This one though, would be our last room to be sent to. It was now after 2pm.
   Handing in the stamped paper, we were told to take a seat. Looking around, we saw about 200 people, all patiently waiting, among them was the Asian woman I had seen outside, also the man who had shown his badge. I wondered if he felt using his position, and the contempt some felt towards him, had been worthwhile??

While we waited, we struck up a conversation with an Irish doctor and his wife, also applying for Parole. They had two delightful daughters with them, and had been there most of the day. During our conversation, the Irishman mentioned photos. My ears picked up, photos??? Apparently, along with all the papers I had with me, I should have had two, passport sized, photos which I would have to present when my name was called. Another instance of something not being clearly stated in the requirements sections of the form!