Well, where do I start?

With an overzealous British immigration official? Yes, that will have to be it.

Anyone who has traveled to England and arrived at Gatwick understands the drill, but I will describe it for everyone else. I arrived at the Gatwick North terminal shortly after 6 am (scheduled for 6:55 but a 100mph tailwind helped put us ahead of sked), and after deplaning had a long hike to the immigration control point, along with a couple of hundred other people. I wasn't rushed for time, my rental car was reserved for 9 am, plenty of time to go through immigration, pick up my bags, go through customs, and head to to the car rental desk.

The wait in line didn't seem too terribly long, and I was summoned to a woman at the end of the line of officials. She began asking the typical questions, what is the purpose of your visit (business or pleasure), my response - to visit friends. As she looked through my passport she asked more questions about previous visits, now this gets more tricky trying to remember all the details of the past four years and visits I made. What sparked her enthusiasm was my request last January for a visa to stay longer than the six months allowed as a visitor. My request was based on a desire to do more volunteer work at Fordhall Farm, a 140 acre community owned non-profit organic livestock farm in Shropshire (which I had become involved with during their campaign to save it from development). The request was denied, evidently because I had spent too much time there without a visa, and then some other regulation was quoted with more or less said that such volunteer work (volunteer implies unpaid) is not allowed on such a visa. $170 donated to the British bureaucracy in New York and no visa. So I went back to spend the next few months tying up loose ends and preparing to move back to the US. Well, this official said that the visa denial also meant that I was denied entry, period! That wasn't the way I understood it, because as a US citizen one is allowed to visit without a visa. In fact, the immigration official who let me in on my return said nothing to that fact.

I am then asked how much money I had on me - $21, plus a debit and credit cards that gave me access to plenty of money as needed during my visit.

The interview then drifted to my current job employment (which I started 3 Jan). She didn't believe my company would let me go for two weeks on unpaid leave (I showed her my return ticket as well). I showed her my information I brought with me which had all sorts of stuff pertaining to the new job, along with a phone number of one of my bosses. Of course, at this time of day in the US nobody would be around.

I am then escorted to a temporary holding area where others are being similarly detained, including a cowboy-looking gentleman with a thick American country accent who mumbled something about having lived here 40 years, and needing to be on stage next week.

I'm then escorted to collect my bags (which needed to be inspected) and moved to another more secure holding area. At baggage claim one of my pieces of luggage didn't arrive, so I was put through the indignity of my stuff being unpacked and searched, knowing my third piece might be lost.

When the immigration officials are finished dismantling my baggage I am then taken to the holding area where my bags are tagged and all my 'stuff' (cell phone, PDA, etc.) are taken and I am left with only my wallet. There are a few other people there as well, including a woman from South Africa.

After a few hours of waiting I am summoned to an interview room by another immigration official (a black man) who was very abrupt in his demeanor. He first asked me if I was ready to answer his questions (I was very polite and responded 'yes sir' or 'no sir' appropriately to each question). He repeated many of the same questions the first lady had asked, and I responded with the same answers. I also told him that during previous visits my retired Navy pay supported me while I did volunteer work at the farm. He also asked me why I stayed for six months after I had been denied a visa (do I look like a terrorist, or someone who is trying to scam the British government?). I even paid council taxes for the area where I lived, so I was not a burden to the government, in fact, my approximate retirement income of Ł1200 per month is much better than the average Brit who has to work their ass off just to scratch a living. During all of this I maintained I never got paid for my volunteer work.

Well, three pages of chicken scratch later (because I couldn't tell what he was writing down it looked so bad, nothing personal, it was totally illegible handwriting) and that part was over. Back to the holding room, where a loudish TV sat up in a corner with plexiglas protecting it, and benches and shelves fastened to the floor or wall (so an upset person couldn't use them as weapons I suppose).

More of a wait before

A Librarian of Congress friend recently invited me to one of their Friday night concerts. Sneaking away with the ol' 50 was a lot of fun, but the angles on the interesting paintings and statuary were awful, reminding me of a conversation I had once about how I could take such cool pictures if I could fly.

Every inch of the place is covered either in lush paintings or ornate marblework, as seen here. My friend shared a story about the Italian marble workers, brought over to execute the carvings about a century ago. Apparently, they were expeditiously naturalized to keep from running afoul of immigration law. Of course this has nothing at all to do with politics today.

Also the electric lights in the main atrium (none seen here, sorry, but you can go and look) were some of the first ever electric lights to be installed.