Last Saturday, in attempt to get back in to the United Kingdom, I was successful! Let me tell you the story.
So, I left Berlin all packed and ready to go at around 4:30 am. Jessi's mom was nice enough to drive me to the airport. When I got there, I checked my baggage and myself both in. There was no problem in Berlin. So, I had hoped that it would be a breeze, or at least less painful than last time. The only thing that happened in Berlin to slightly raise an eyebrow was the fact the the German officers glanced puzzled like at the black stamp with the cross through it. Though, after a few seconds of perplexity, they returned my passport to me, and I was free to board the plane.
On the flight over I didn't sleep. I was so stressed out about getting in that it was giving me a headache, and making me feel like I was going to puke or something. We took off and landed safely. The flight was a little under two hours. I got my carry on bags together, and started to make my way to customs at the Gatwick Airport. I was as nervous as hell. There weren't very many foreign nationals trying to get through. So, I found myself promptly in front of a Persian-looking Englishman would started to examine me.
He was instantly thrown off-guard by the nasty stamp given to me by the other piece-of-shit immigration officer. He began to question me, and I began to show all of the well-collected and organized documents that I had brought with me. He told me that I should have applied for a visa, and I told him that I was told that I didn't need one. He began to express to me the true nature of the horrid 'black stamp', and how it is very looked down upon. Then, for an hour, I was again searched, questioned, detained, interviewed, and then detained again.
I could tell that this man, in spite of following his job, was in some was concerned for me. I noticed a wedding band on his finger, which in some way explain the small hint of compassion he unknowingly was showing me. Maybe, he had kids, or perhaps even a son around my age. Whatever the reason, I felt much better in the care of this officer than in the care of the previous one.
So, after being detained again, he came and got me once more. Apparently, he had been on the phone corroborating Jessi and I's stories about our relationship. How and when we got together, what we liked and disliked about each other, what we did for fun, these inquires were all part of an effort to see and verify that I was indeed telling the truth.
Finally, after sitting in the detaining area for another half an hour talking with a man from the states, one from BC, one from Portugal, and one woman from Ghana, I was called upon by the same Persian-looking man. He said to me that he needed to take me somewhere. He then told me to grab my stuff, all of it. I signed a paper, and then we walked through the doors. I asked him where we were going, and he said, "You're going outside with me to have a cigarette." I then turned to him with a smile as wide as a Buick as if to say "Does this mean what I think it does?" He then smiled at me, and then showed me the way out. He said, "You're a free man!" I about lost it, and told him to come here to give me a hug. He hesitated, but I insisted and hugged him as if he were my father. I can tell you the happiness that rushed over me.
I asked his name and he told me "Officer Cliff". I doubt that is his last name, but I will always remember the kindness that this individual showed me. He then said before we parted ways, "Better than the last officer?" I told him yes, and said I wanted to bow down and praise him. Then I went one way, and he went the other. I almost wanted to cry. I will always remember his kindness.
I immediately called Jessi, and told her the good news. We both screamed and shouted for joy. I had finally made it back in, and we could finally be together once more. I can't remember the last time I felt such overwhelming joy all at once. I guess it is safe to say that it was a good weekend for me.
Thanks for reading. I hope that you got an idea of how happy I was and am.
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