Welcome to DU!
The truly grassroots left-of-center political community where regular people, not algorithms, drive the discussions and set the standards.
Join the community:
Create a free account
Support DU (and get rid of ads!):
Become a Star Member
Latest Breaking News
Editorials & Other Articles
General Discussion
The DU Lounge
All Forums
Issue Forums
Culture Forums
Alliance Forums
Region Forums
Support Forums
Help & Search
Travel advisories -- Sabriina Haake
https://sabrinahaake.substack.com/p/travel-advisories
Maria Lepere, 18, and Charlotte Pohl, 19, were detained 12 days in Hawaii for not having hotel reservations and sent back to Germany in March.
Ms. Haake discusses her flight from Cartegena to Chicago with a young woman who is obviously in distress and fearful. This is about what happened when they arrived at the airport and encounters with customs.
. . .
These are innocuous, every day annoyances that don’t affect us personally. But on occasion, because we have to renew our drivers’ license, or pay property taxes at the window of a government worker, we all experience men and women with tiny chips of power that do affect us. You recognize them instantly as they exaggerate their own authority over miniscule matters, including yours. They crave agency. Their self-importance is so domineering one wonders what it’s like to live with them and hopes they live alone.
Well, this Customs agent, on this day, was that guy. He sniffed out my friend’s vulnerability like a truffle. She was Peruvian, and there was evidently some problem with her paperwork. He raised his voice and repeated whatever question it was he had for her. She started shaking, he relished her fear, and put his face close to hers, the better to smell it. His stance changed to a strut, and my memory may embellish here, but I’m pretty sure he thrust his thumbs into his belt and tipped back, southern sheriff like.
I’ll never know what happened to her, whether she was trying to enter the states illegally, her nervousness giving her away. But the unnecessary aggression of the customs agent got my back up. I stepped back toward the line and called back to her, “Are you ok?” She looked at me with giant eyes but didn’t respond. The Customs agent did. He left his target frozen in place and strutted toward me, relishing the plot twist. “Who do you think you are? Are you some kind of lawyer?” “Yes, in fact.” “Are you trying to be her lawyer?” “No, I’m trying to be her friend.” “Well, friend, unless you want to go where she’s going, what makes you think any of this is any of your business?”
To my eternal shame, as other customs agents circled around her, I walked on. I told myself it was because I was travelling on my client’s dime, and needed to get to the office. Also that I didn’t know immigration law so WTF did I think I was doing? But the truth is, I was intimidated. He was the worst kind of creep, a man of low intellect and high power. He enjoyed his authority. It was personal to him, so he made it personal for everyone else.
. . .
These are innocuous, every day annoyances that don’t affect us personally. But on occasion, because we have to renew our drivers’ license, or pay property taxes at the window of a government worker, we all experience men and women with tiny chips of power that do affect us. You recognize them instantly as they exaggerate their own authority over miniscule matters, including yours. They crave agency. Their self-importance is so domineering one wonders what it’s like to live with them and hopes they live alone.
Well, this Customs agent, on this day, was that guy. He sniffed out my friend’s vulnerability like a truffle. She was Peruvian, and there was evidently some problem with her paperwork. He raised his voice and repeated whatever question it was he had for her. She started shaking, he relished her fear, and put his face close to hers, the better to smell it. His stance changed to a strut, and my memory may embellish here, but I’m pretty sure he thrust his thumbs into his belt and tipped back, southern sheriff like.
I’ll never know what happened to her, whether she was trying to enter the states illegally, her nervousness giving her away. But the unnecessary aggression of the customs agent got my back up. I stepped back toward the line and called back to her, “Are you ok?” She looked at me with giant eyes but didn’t respond. The Customs agent did. He left his target frozen in place and strutted toward me, relishing the plot twist. “Who do you think you are? Are you some kind of lawyer?” “Yes, in fact.” “Are you trying to be her lawyer?” “No, I’m trying to be her friend.” “Well, friend, unless you want to go where she’s going, what makes you think any of this is any of your business?”
To my eternal shame, as other customs agents circled around her, I walked on. I told myself it was because I was travelling on my client’s dime, and needed to get to the office. Also that I didn’t know immigration law so WTF did I think I was doing? But the truth is, I was intimidated. He was the worst kind of creep, a man of low intellect and high power. He enjoyed his authority. It was personal to him, so he made it personal for everyone else.
. . .