The post-flight adventure

I already wrote about the pre-flight adventure and the flight adventure, hence I’ll need to find a post flight adventure as well. Actually, this last comment on the flight is not that much of an adventure as everything worked out as planned. Nevertheless, I think a short description of immigration into the US is interesting though not a thrilling experience. Still, I was a little nervous when waiting in line for my turn as I had not checked-out of the US correctly last September. I’ll stop my confusing introduction here and start again in chronological order.
First, last September on my trip to Canada I went on a day-trip to Seattle with my girlfriend. Not only could I for the first time experience the bureaucratic immigration process to the United States of America but also did I see the Space Needle and a lot of shopping malls. Anyway, what is important to mention is that when entering the US Austrian (and many other European citizens) get a Visa-Waiver (a kind of temporary Visa you don’t have to pay for) stapled into your passport. When leaving the country for good you are supposed to give this Visa-Waiver back to US immigration officers. Unfortunately, when crossing the border to Canada again we never met an US immigration officer. The only person checking our passports was a Canadian officer who did not remind us of bringing back those certificates to the US services. Hence, when leaving Canada from Vancouver airport for Paris Charles-de-Gaulle the Visa Waiver was still in our passports and no Canadian would take it from us. Back at home we decided to tear the slips out of our passports and send them, accompanied of a nice letter containing a short version of the story, to the US embassy in Vienna. To the day of my departure to the US I didn’t get any answer from the embassy nor could they tell me what happened with our letter when I called them.
That’s enough to understand the situation I was in while standing in the “Non-US citizen queue” at Denver airport. Eventually it was my turn and I advanced to the immigration officer. With sweaty hands I handed him over the I-94W Form (for more information follow this link ) and the customs declaration. While scanning in my passport he asked me if I had ever been to the US before and at the same time he was interested in what I was planning to do in the country this time. Then, without any emotion or astonishment he wanted to know why I had not returned the “green slip” at the USA/Canadian border. Showing him the letter to the embassy (which I of course had printed out and taken along) I explained myself. He looked at me, wondered how such a thing could happen and told me to place my left index finger on the fingerprint identification machine. After having done the same thing with my right index finger followed by an automatic photograph he continued his speech: “This time when leaving the country you have to, do you understand, you have to check-out your passport. After check-in; before boarding there are automatic check-out machines. You have to put your passport in there, give him your fingerprints and let him take another picture before boarding.” He repeated these or similar words two or three times to make sure that I had understood him correctly. Finally, after I had told him that I was planning a road trip without even thinking about espionage, terrorist attacks or any other criminal offence he let me enter the country; or at least the baggage claim area.
I was relieved but wondered what the “A” meant he had written, with a fat black marker, on my customs form. Was it a special request to frisk me for Arms, Ammunition or even for Anarchist material? A few moments later I was sent to the baggage scanner and, while my bags were scanned by customs officials, my brain finally associated the A correctly with the word “agriculture” or “agricultural products”. Again, relief followed by a short explanation what pumpkin seed oil was and that it was not worth building a pipeline from Austria to the US because their cars’ engines would not appreciate it too much. Hence, it was not necessary to bomb our country (actually it was not all that dramatic). Accompanied by the final words of the customs officer: “You are free to go now”, Harald and I stepped into the main hall of Denver airport.
This is the end of my post-flight adventure but, at the same time, the beginning of a three week stay to the US starting in “Colourful Colorado”.