{"id":111,"date":"2012-08-02T21:21:00","date_gmt":"2012-08-03T02:21:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.petitefreespirit.com\/2012\/08\/on-the-border-immigration\/"},"modified":"2020-06-10T19:47:08","modified_gmt":"2020-06-11T00:47:08","slug":"on-the-border-immigration","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.petitefreespirit.com\/index.php\/2012\/08\/02\/on-the-border-immigration\/","title":{"rendered":"On the Border – Immigration"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/FONT>Immigration concerns have been top of mind for me for quite a while.  I have not immigrated although I would like to some day.  I thought that day would be soon but, alas, that is not to be the case.  I have one friend who has a “to hell with papers” attitude which makes me smile.  Considering the plight of “illegal” aliens in the United States, I have no desire to have an intimate knowledge of the everyday fear that being in a country illegally entails. 
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<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/FONT>Two years ago, I was aboard a bus coming from Italy going to Paris when the bus pulled over and was boarded by border agents checking passports.  As they moved down the aisle checking passports, I thought nothing of it.  Then I saw one agent keep a passport with the promise that he would return with it.  My first thought was “uhh-ohhh, this guy must be in trouble.”  When they got to me, he kept mine as well with the promise that he would return it.  I’m sure someone behind me was thinking “uhh-ohh, she’s in trouble”.  Funny how the pendulum swings.  They then proceeded in checking IDs until they reached the back of the bus, then left the bus with the confiscated passports.  The bus sat quietly (and nervously) awaiting the return of the officers with the passports they had collected.  As the seconds turned into hours, I started getting nervous – had I done something that put me on an international watch list?  Did they know that I was THINKING of ways to smuggle Parma ham back into the US?  I didn’t have any on hand from this visit but I’ve always wondered if there is a way to smuggle my own portion of gastronomic heaven back into the country.  Did they know?  Were the passengers seated behind me staring holes in the back of my head because my presumed illegal activities were holding up the bus’s progress?  Were they trying to figure out what sin I had committed to have my passport detained for an extended period?  As sweat probably started forming on my forehead thinking of all the things that could go wrong in a 21st century database with my passport number and name in it, the officers returned to the bus.  They returned my passport and that of several others, however, the guy ahead of me – not so lucky.  They escorted him from the bus in the middle of that night.  I sat there with my passport in hand, thinking – “uhh-ohh, that guy really is in trouble”, glad that it wasn’t me.
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<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/FONT>Just this evening, I spoke to someone who is trying to arrange to visit someone she knows who has been detained for being in the country illegally.  As I listened to the ins and outs of her attempts to visit, I realized that I wouldn’t want to trade places with the detained friend at all.  I have already died a thousand deaths already from any number of things that I’ve anxiously awaited (and these were positive things), I would not want to increase that to a thousand deaths per day as I try to live an “illegal” life in a “legal” world. 
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<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/FONT>With that I leave you with my first punk rock band – Gogol Bordello.  Guitar riffs, violin and accordion.  What a combo!<\/p>\n

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