Visa process negotiated, flight booked, modules approved, Study Abroad portfolio submitted,
accommodation sorted, roommate ‘friended’ online, flown to Miami and after all that time, effort,
expense three little words mean a whole lot of bother.

“Where’s your DS20-19?” asked the ruggedly handsome Homeland Security man. Inside I’m a
swearing mess annoyed at myself, on the outside I mumble a feeble, “On my kitchen counter… At
home… In England…”

“Oh dear,” he says, “It’s not a problem – just adding two maybe more hours to your trip”. And a
much fiercer man takes me to The Room. Now, I take American Studies. I am aware of the problems
between US and Mexican border. But honestly, it was me and an entire room of Hispanics. Gradually
we were called one by one. “Sanchez Miranda… Rodriguez… Gomez…” and so on: Puerto Ricans,
Mexicans, Cubans. I’m not entirely sure why all these people were having their passports analysed
– I hope there were genuine problems and not just racial profiling. How could so many people be a
security risk?

I waited for around two hours (only telling from furtive looks at wristwatches of other detainees – as
the room had no clock to speak of) for my turn. I was called up again and asked for the same form.
Explaining that I didn’t have it, I was made to sit back down. A BA rep checked my name on a list. The
room slowly emptied and I was called back again. Maybe as I was clearly not trying to enter illegally
and I had a British passport and accent the employees of Homeland Security were jovial and polite. I
used their phone twice to ring the friend who was picking me up in NOLA. I added more information
that wasn’t even on the original form – height, weight, skin tone – and took my finger prints again
(once he’d got the scanner working!).

After landing at around 7:30pm, queuing for an hour, sitting for two, and waiting for the system
to process me it was now past midnight. My flight had now gone. Free to go (pending the papers
arriving within thirty days) I stuck it out in the airport. I chatted with a newly married Texan couple.
And followed CNN’s analysis of the Romey’s Republican running mate – apparently ‘family man’ Paul
Ryan worked at McDonald’s and was prom king in high school. Good to know.

I am heading to New Orleans to spend a few days with a previous Keele
exchange student before heading up to the University of Southern
Mississippi. I’m going for big, old-fashioned, American school pride,
Southern Hospitality, football, and a whole load of grits. Wish me luck – ya’ll.