BenPaddon.co.uk

One of the last things you expect to see when you go to an interview at the American Embassy for immigration purposes is someone you know, doing exactly the same thing. Funnily enough, I didn’t bump into anyone I knew. What a strange world we live in.

I did meet a strange Nigerian fellow on the train. As I stepped off of the tube at Oxford Circus to change lines for Bond Street, I was stopped by this gentleman asking me if I knew how to get to the Embassy. As it happens I did, and we journeyed together, having a lovely conversation on the way. He’s getting an Education Visa, which will allow him to do part of his Ph.D in Texas. We were getting along famously until he began to ask me questions such as “Do you pray?”, “Have you accepted our lord Jesus Christ into your heart?” and “Would you like a copy of this leaflet?”. I took one, because I’m far too polite to, say, throw it back in his face, point and laugh at him before running away at record-breaking speeds.  But it went in the bin not long after I set foot inside of the Embassy.

The interview process was nothing like I expected. I had imagined a one-on-one interview in a room with red mahogany furniture, stylish expensive-looking panelled walls and fine green carpets. What I got instead was more akin to an NHS walk in centre. There was a two hour wait before I got to speak to anyone, after which I was called to a window - like a bank - and asked to give my documents. They also took my fingerprints. Oh, and I had to make a payment at another window. Finally I was called to yet another window, where my fingerprints were taken a second time (probably to verify them with the first set) and I was made to sign a form stating I wasn’t going to get married before I let England. I was handed my chest x-rays, which I have to take on the flight with me, directed to the Courier counter so I could pay for the courier service, and then I was free to go.

So that’s that out of the way. The courier clerk said I would probably get my passport and documentation on Friday or Monday, and it’s unlikely it’ll arrive any time after that, so it looks very much like I shall be flying out on Tuesday as planned. They have my mobile number too, and they generally try to send a text message the day before delivery. Whee!

The original plan, after my interview at the Embassy had finished, was to meet up with Pooka again. About halfway out of the Embassy I realised I didn’t have my mobile and so I had no way of contacting him or checking our plans. Bugger. Oh well. I decided to go home, stopping briefly in Luton town centre to grab a couple of tee-shirts and another book to read on the plane.

So that’s it. My work here is done. I’ve just got to wait on my documentation and my passport and then I’m off!