OK, so I landed in New York and now I am on my way to Denver soon. I got Internet, an apple, some water, I made it through immigration and customs, I know where my gate is, I have two hours to spare. I am jamming. I was so worried before we landed because everybody around me had filled in this Visa form online and I guess I was supposed to as well. I imagined myself meeting the big, scary immigration official and him handcuffing me and sending me back to Norway on the first plane. But, miraculously, when I met the scary immigration official, it was all fine, my visa was great, my passport too, they just needed my fingerprints and I was free to be in the US of A.
Standing in line waiting for some government official to decide your destiny always makes me think of all the freedoms I have. I thought: What if I had been an illegal immigrant from an oppressed nation and was waiting in this line. It would be my last hope of freedom and a future. A lot more would have been at stake. I thought that the worst that could happen to me if my visa was not there would be that they would send me back to Norway and we would lose some money, I would feel embarrassed, it would be a loooong trip back and I would miss out on some great opportunities to get to know people. But it would not be the end of me. I thought about how many dreams and hopes had been crushed at the end of an immigration line. But then too, how many dreams and hopes had started right there and the end of an immigration line, with a stamp in a passport and the freedom to enter into a free country.
I stood next to a famous TV commentator on the train to my terminal. A Norwegian VIP. He is on his way to Bogota to film IDPs living in the jungle, I overheard him say. He has lots of security and stuff around him to keep him safe. I may have to watch the program.I noticed he flew business class all the way too.
Nothing really important to write about today. It’s what happens when one is jet lagged.