The return trip to the States could have been one of my
smoothest flights ever.  The planes were
on time, my luggage made it without damage or problems, flight attendants were
friendly and the food close to tasty! 
But… Homeland Security was not going to make it easy, this time.  Dublin
Airport (where I had to
take my connecting flight) was the place of terror.  For some reason US
immigration took place in Ireland
and I would have known.  Every other
time, I wanted to come in the country, border officials asked plenty of
questions, showed suspicion and held me for a long time, but at the end of the
interview, I got my six months (I have a special visa).  And, those six months were very important
this time, since we had to get the sailboat ready for her journey, get the dogs
used to the cat, practice some sailing, and most importantly, we couldn’t go
anywhere during hurricane season, which lasts till November 1st.As expected, I got pulled aside while checking into the US (in Ireland).  The waiting started and the questioning
followed.  Soon enough it got
intimidating.  I’d never done anything
wrong, so felt confident.  Not good.  The official let me know that I was not as
innocent as I thought.  The interview
turned into an interrogation.  I needed
to remember all my previous entries in the country (the dates, the ports of
entry, the lengths of stay, the ports of exit and the reasons for the visits)
over the last four years.  I got warmed
not to be mistaken, while the man compared my answers to a computer print-out
next to him.  I got in trouble for going
through Canada for only three weeks and then back into the States (Alaska), I
got frowned upon my travels through the US, my short stay in Belgium had been
too short, I was supposedly living in the US, which is not true at all, and so
on.  I needed to provide proof for
getting an extension one time, two years ago. 
They had the proof in their computer but told me they didn’t.  About four times, I had to leave the office,
and the door closed.  I waited and
waited, while I saw every other passenger board the plane to Boston…

The official threatened with keeping me in Dublin, because I didn’t have proof of the
extension.  Then, they blamed me for
overstaying one day, one time.  Not
true.  I left in time, but didn’t get to Belgium
until the next day.  Yep, the time
difference.  I couldn’t convince them,
though, and was only making things worse by opening my mouth.  The bottom line was, that I had been in the US too many times (?) and too long each time
(?), while Mister Homeland Security had been stuck in Dublin all those years.  It’s all about who you get at the border and
in what kind of mood that person is.  True.

The gate was about to close and one of the attendants walked
over to the immigration office, to see whether I was to board the plane.  The official called me back inside and said:
“Mam, we are going to do you a huge favor. 
And that is thanks to the supervisor here…” - very serious looks on
everybody’s face- “”We found the proof of your extension…” – sigh from me- “No,
don’t get all relieved yet.  We are going
to let you into the country for one month.” 
“Oh no, I need more time!”  “Mam,
you are very lucky that we will let you in at all.  You have one month to work things out between
you and your boyfriend.  After that month
you have to leave the country for at least six months.” –my eyes got wider-
“You are not allowed to file for an extension, and don’t even think of hiring
an immigration lawyer.  You will not
succeed.  Do you agree with this?”

What was I going to say? 
It was either getting on that plane now … or never.  And, I can tell you, it was a hell of a long,
and emotional flight back over the Atlantic.