(diary entry from June, 2018)
Crossing half-the-world I journeyed from Taiwan to California.
After 14-hour flight, going 15 hours back in Time, I landed at LAX airport Wednesday, June 20, 4pm local time. This was my very first-time entering America through West-Coast. I knew it wouldn’t be much different from New York airport, so I armed myself with patience expecting the worst long, torturous lines at the customs.
This is the story of how I got deported from America.
I had been working for a company for almost two years, coming in and out America countless times. Once I took the job, the company agreed to a very flexible schedule. They were also going through some structural company changes so they, too, wanted to avoid visa-application process. I would be working remotely, coming and going, never overstaying my 90-day ESTA allowance. I was given absolute freedom to travel the World!
Perhaps I wouldn’t have run in the issue if I wouldn’t have loved New York so much. Whenever I left, it was for no longer than 2 weeks, and It was in 2017 when, by the end of the year, I had been in the country for over 220 days...
That’s when I started to feel uncomfortable with passing through the customs. Sure, I was convinced that I’m doing nothing wrong. My job does not require for me to be in the office and my purpose of traveling/staying in US is purely because of ‘my relationship’ and my love for NYC. “I was not trying to live there!”
In December, 2017, I packed my bags and left New York once again, not knowing
when I would come back..
I started building a new life – traveling to Bali, Australia, Honkg Kong, I was living my dream of working remotely. I supported myself 100% covering all travel expenses and I was wearing sunglasses and flip-flops In the middle of ‘winter’. I was so happy to avoid the long dark days of Winter but I still missed New York dearly. I was avoiding any thoughts and looking through old photos. I knew It was impossible to return and keep pushing my luck. I had to be patient and trust the universe.
End of March I returned to Latvia very briefly and just over a week in the cold, dark conditions made me feel miserable. I decided that I would be going back to Bali.
My friend Joe, who knows me probably better than anyone else, had an idea- why don’t I go to New York for a week, then fly across to LA and from there he would get me a free ticket to Australia using his membership points.
The sound of that was like the sweetest Maltese honey for me and blinded by my big city love, I didn’t think twice before I booked my flight for April 3rd. I was only going for 10 days, and I didn’t expect any problems this time.
Fast forward to that day, April 3rd, when I landed in JFK from Moscow and after over an hour of waiting in the line, I finally reached the customs-officer window.
I had always been nervous when facing the officers, even when I was at my early days of travel – they have a way to make you feel intimidated and nervous.
Standard questions: for how long, what do you do, where do you live, where are you going.
I can’t recall what exactly those were, but I knew better to never stutter- just be confident
and fluent in your responses.
He might have been convinced, but swiping my passport through the computer, there must had been a major red flag that came up, so he made a call. And soon after another officer approached and asked me to follow him.. They need to do further examination.
In that room, with about 20-30 people, time stops. Everyone is waiting for their 'death-sentence'. There are about 5 officers there, and a pile of passports. I was called out, just a few questions and request for me to hand in my phone. Again, I knew I had to be confident and follow their rules. This was not the place to disoblige.
Can you image what thoughts would be running through your head when you are held in a room, under an investigation, potentially being sent back to your country and
facing a ban of entering America?!
All I could think about was how sad I would be not to walk the streets of New York, not to have my coffee and experiencing the things I had planned. I knew I only had one week and
I was so excited for it. Actually, I don’t want to use word excited.
I was just so much more than excited.
The next time I was called out, officer asked me about my work, rapidly shooting question after question. I choked, my heart was beating so fast, but again I stood strong with confident answers and showed no fear. He asked me to sit down.
He called me out two more times... I noticed that a representative from Moscow-airlines came around and exchanged some paperwork with the officer. I knew what that meant.
My destiny had been sealed.
Life flashed in front of my eyes. I remember thinking- how lucky I had been all the previous times. How lucky that I got in when I knew I have a room that I am paying rent for. That I have a gym membership, that I had my Brock baby. I had been so lucky, and I could feel that my luck had run out. The rest of the people in the room had come and gone, I was still there. Cold, sick, but staying strong.
I was called out one final time, and as I approached the elevated counter to look up in the officers’ eyes - he took a very deep inhale, shaking his head, shuffling through the papers, extending the moment of suspense for just a second more. He finally gave me his verdict.
“This is the longest paper-work I will have to do, but fine- I will let you through this time.
My heart dropped. I asked no questions, just shaking my head, I did not want to irritate him, just be quiet, obey and leave once the passport is stamped.
What they write or where they put the paper work afterwards- I have no idea. I didn’t have to sign anything; my phone was given back, and I was let-go.
I felt free!
I got so lucky!
I also had the most amazing 8 days in NYC that I will never forget. I could explain in every detail what I did, where I went, what I ate. How in the middle of April, a heat-wave hit the city,
I was walking around in short dress, 20c heat for just one day –
my last day in NYC was such a gift..
I left feeling sad because I knew it would be quite a long time before I can come back and savor every moment, every street, café, even the dirty air of Manhattan. I had my time; I had my amazing life in NYC and a new chapter was upon me. New dreams and dreams-come-true.
After I departed LAX in mid-April, I had no plans to return, especially because I specifically noted to the custom officer that I will be spending my summer in Europe.
However, because of work, there was an urgency for me to join a very important meetings in LA right before my birthday, on June 21. This is only 2 months after the incident..
My friend recommended that I extend my stay in Bali and then fly in LA directly from Asia. Apparently, it was very important for me to be present in these meetings. There was no consideration or worry about what had happened in April, we dismissed it. I suppose like every traumatic or bad experience; we have the tendency to forget or put it away and that is what I had done.
It was only going to be a 6-day trip and I had my ticket out. Not to worry!
Also, It’s my birthday weekend, so another great story for US customs.
Fast forward to June 20 when I traveled from Taiwan to Los Angeles.
My first time at LAX customs – feeling a mixture or exhaustion, excitement and fear.
The human line stretched invisibly long. People from all nationalities and ages, all waiting for their turn to face the desk, answer few quick questions and have their passport stamped. Welcome to the United States of America! The land of dreams!
The wait was over an hour already, approaching closer to the front, I started observing the officers. I always had this belief that if I pick the right one, the one who is in good mood and feeling generous, then I will get in.
Finally, came my turn and I was feeling lucky. The young officer was casually snacking on some crisps, didn’t even ask me much, just scanned my passport and there it was- a big red flag (well, that is what I am guessing). He said that the officers at the back will have to ask me a few more questions, but not to worry- it should not take too long.
He made the call and I was escorted to the back room. This one- much bigger and busier than then one in New York. “Find a free seat and your name will be called out” It’s almost like a hospital reception, where people wait their turn, the difference of course is huge. Looking around the room, everyone is petrified, people are panicking, crying, shouting. A lot don’t speak English language at all. There are students, old people, Mexicans, white, black. Here everyone is treated the same and that is with a major suspicion.
Thousands of people come through LAX every day, it is the third biggest airport in USA and many think of it as a gateway to the ‘land of dreams’ .
My name is called out - I approach the desk towards a very angry looking woman in her mid-30s. I stand there for about 5 seconds and she doesn’t even acknowledge my presence- as to show her power over me. At this point I am entitled to nothing (and that is when I still didn’t know any worse..). She starts speaking very aggressively and instantly throwing accusations at me. It hits me so hard. After spending weeks in Bali, the land of smiles and sunshine, I feel like I am being slapped over and over again.
She asks for my phone, tells me to sit down and wait.
Soon after I get called out again and seems like round one was just a warm-up for her.
With my phone in her hands she feels so powerful.
Do you ever wonder what secrets you actually have on your phone? Or rather how so many things could be interpreted in a very different way?!
I already explained her what I do for a living, but she doesn’t buy my story and how I can afford to travel so much. She starts accusing me that I sleep with men for money. She attacks me to say that I am a drug user. Once I explain my relationship and who my boyfriend is, she shames me for going out with someone so much older. She keeps repeating shameful rhetorical questions such as ‘what Is your mother saying about you going out with a man her age” “you are having an affair to exhort money from this guy” “how much are you getting paid to sleep with all these men”
She is filled with anger! And I am backed in a corner, losing my strength and slowly crumbling to pieces... She doesn’t let me speak and most importantly she is not listening. She had made up her mind long time ago.
Not sure how long I spent in that room, but people started clearing out, other people coming in. There is a bit of traffic happening in this ‘next level’ security check.
Unlike the next level I am escorted to....
Congratulations Marta, you have made It to the final! A light humor I can use now when I look back at the events of that day..
I remember being sat down in this big armchair. I still had my handbag on me.
Two officers came to me with a yellow envelop and said I need to take out all of my cash and note on the envelope how much money and what currencies I have there.
They were rolling their eyes once I was going through my wallet- US dollars, AUS dollars, Euros, HK dollars, Indonesian rupees. I was also asked to take off all jewelry and shoes laces..
Something I didn’t understand at that time...
Probably still in shock as the events were unfolding in front of my eyes,
faster than I could grasp. They took my laces, jewelry and handbag away. The last and only piece of dignity you hold onto is the envelope with all your money. And of course, it’s useless there. Another way for them to emphasize how in this world (in this space)
you are worth nothing!!
I was taken to a different room where my body was checked. Against the wall, hands up, I was treated like a true criminal and that was just the beginning of it. No clothes were removed but in a very aggrieve manner underwear was moved around, making sure every part of my body is checked. After that, I was pushed out to another room, which as it turns out later, was where I was going to spend the next 48 hours.
There were some chairs, basic hospital beds, heavy dirty wool blankets. Tv on the wall, bathroom, water-tank and a desk with an officer on-duty. Behind him- shelves with some instant-noodles and crackers. They could be serving fresh pistachio croissants
and I still wouldn’t care for it!
Not sure how long I waited before I was called out for an interview.
At this point, I already knew that my destiny had been sealed, so it was just a matter of answering a few questions and setting the case straight. I knew that I was not getting in USA, all I wanted to know was when was I getting out of there!!
We went through the same questions, I explained to him that I work remotely, and whilst the company that I work for is based in NYC, I am not required to be there! The reason why I had spent so much time in USA back in 2017 was because of my boyfriend who resided there at the time. I never overstayed my 90 days that are allowed on ESTA, the maximum I ever stayed was 60-70, however I was aware of the fact that I was coming too many times which resulted in about 240 days spent in the country in 2017. That Is why I left in December and promised that in 2018 I will do my best to stay away from USA.
April, 2018 I visited New York and Los Angeles for 9 days combined and now in June, 2018, I was planning to spend only 6 days to celebrate my birthday with my boyfriend.
Here is my ticket out!
I explained my job situation that, of course, sounded too confusing for him, and I can’t blame the guy! I repeated more than once that I do not wish to live in USA, and he nodded in disbelief: “America is the best country in the World, of course you want to live here. Everyone wants to live here”.
He was so convinced, how could I prove him wrong?
There were more questions, all for the purpose to fill out formal paper-work. At one point he noted that I would probably be not getting out today (they had already taken everything away from me, so that was quite obvious...) but they will ensure that I get out ASAP!
It was already late that night so it would be the next morning. My arrival/departure was another puzzle for this custom officer to crack. I had arrived from Taiwan, my original return ticket was from NYC (not LA) to London, and he actually had to send me to my home country.
In a moment of desperation, nothing matters except to get OUT, so I insisted that I would pay for my own flight, the first one out, if possible, tonight, if not- early tomorrow.
He assured me that they are ‘’very good at getting people out’’ and there is Norwegian flight from LA to London tomorrow 11am. Not to worry.
First, we have to complete the paperwork, he was going to give me
one phone call after we are done.
I was holding so strong and answering all the questions, I didn’t cry, even after he said that ESTA is denied for me and that is a status that I will have for the rest of my life. Apparently,
I can apply for tourist visa (even next week if I wish) – I have been refused ESTA, but that does not mean categorically ‘denied’ or banned for several years.
It took maybe another hour or so before I finally got my phone call. I called Joe and, of course, he knew what had happened, so there were no questions about that. As soon as I heard his voice- I burst into tears, barely able to gather my breath, I could not speak. It was the first time I broke down after all these hours. The officer had no patience- he took
the phone out of my hands and hang up!
I was shocked – I said ‘’I didn’t even explain what will happen now.’’
He said “no crying!” picked up the phone and dialed again- once Joe picked-up, the officer was very brief to explain that Marta is being detained, refused entry and tomorrow 11am she will be put on a flight to London. She will call you from London.
Joe tried to ask some questions, make some suggestions, but there was nothing he could do. The conversation didn’t last even a minute.
And then I was escorted to the room where I was going to spend the night. The officer offered me instant noodle soup and recommended me to sleep –
for tomorrow will come earlier.
I was feeling so cold and so exhausted. It was around 11pm when I finally put my head down to one of those bunk-beds, covered myself with the heavy horse blanket and
cried myself to sleep.
The room had bright lights on, there was no clock, so no way to understand what time of the day it was when I woke up.
I approached the desk to ask the officer the time- it was 7am!
I inquired about my flight status and the lady responded that “your name will be called out”
I explained her that I got here late last night and no flight was confirmed for me, so I just wanted to check if I have a seat on that 11am Norwegian flight to London.
First punch in the stomach- that flight is at 4pm, not 11am. Might not seem like a big difference but after the horrible experience, overnight stay there, time difference and
all the stress- every half-an-hour mattered.
What could I do except to wait patiently and sleep more...
Later, around 1pm, representative from Norwegian came in to say that the flight is full and its unlikely that they could accommodate me.
HOW?! At that point I was the number 1 priority and US customs wants to make sure that I get sent out, hence the airline needs to co-operate.
Clearly, they didn’t care much and as the time was approaching 4pm, it was becoming obvious that It wouldn’t happen for me.
I was angry, frustrated, helpless.
Last night I insisted I would pay for my own flights, no matter how much, and I got a pushback. Now, at 4pm, I was all on my own and nobody seemed to care.
The officer who was doing my case obviously enjoying his day-off and
nobody else checked or followed-up.
I will never forget the face of that Eva airways representative. It wasn’t his responsibility, but he eventually saved me out from there. It took much longer than it would have if I were given access to my phone and 5 min on Skyscnanner, but that was not a luxury I could afford..
I cried so much. I was tired and It was June 21st.
Never in my life had I experienced the feeling of not being free. We all value and crave different things- love is often referred to as the most important pillar of happiness. Or family, or health, financial security/money. It was then that I learned the value of freedom- the ability to get up and go! And do and feel and experience!
It was less than 24 hours in that room when I looked down at my shoes and understood exactly why they asked me to take out the shoe-laces... Me, the happiest, most positive and strong person, had a flash moment when I considered ending my life now would be easier than being there even for another hour…
At around 8pm I was told that no more direct flights are going to Europe and I would have to sleep there another night!
I cried hysterically – all the strength and determination you have is useless when you are not free! I begged him to please find a flight for me.
“it’s my birthday tomorrow, I can’t be here. I just can’t”
He came back to me a while later saying tomorrow at 5pm I can fly to Iceland and from there to Latvia. I said NO! Get me an earlier flight, anywhere in Europe. Ideally Paris or London.
He came back again, saying there is a flight tomorrow- 1pm departure from LAX, landing in Paris at 8am on June 23rd. So theoretically, I will miss my birthday, because I will be going ahead in time. But that is fine- as long as I was out of there- I didn’t care!!!
I told him where to find my card in my bag (because of course- I am not given access to my bag and neither I am allowed to leave the room..) – and just before midnight he came back with a confirmation that I have my flights booked. The most reckless 1000usd I have ever spent! But what would you pay for your freedom?
I had made sure that everyone knows it’s my birthday, to emphasize how much more dramatic my situation is, when really- everyone was exhausted, feeling cold and wanting to get out.
I remember walking up and down the room to get some steps/movement in.
I remember going to the bathroom and doing push-ups and squats, repeating to myself- nothing will break my spirit! I am so strong- nothing will break my spirit!!! Now that I knew I have the ticket- I felt safe. I had my way out.
The light at the end of the tunnel.
As it turns out, beyond the aggressive and dominating way, there is a sliver of empathy in some of the people who work there, so that night, before going to bed, officer organized a towel for me from first class lounge, gave me access to my bag and allowed me to take shampoo and toothpaste. I had a shower on the night before my birthday,
and what a luxury that was.
I had some sweet cookies from the selection that was on offer in this room which, incredibly, I hadn’t left for over 24 hours at that time. I sat on one of the bunk beds, settling in for night’s sleep and wished myself a happy birthday as I cracked open the cookies. “Nothing can break my spirit”, I repeated to myself. “Sleep, and once you wake up- you will be out of here and all this will be behind you!”
On June 22nd I woke up very early, I could not sleep too long, because I was petrified,
I might be forgotten and left there for another night.
Once a day, at 9am, everyone can use an opportunity to order something from 7-11 grocer. Remember, the only thing we have on us is that envelope with all the money, so here is your chance to spend the last dollars, because you won’t be needing them after you leave.
Will you ever be coming back..?
I order big coffee and some fruit. This is the place where your income or savings or whatever that envelope contains, is irrelevant! After all- it is a small 7-11 store, no Dean&Deluca and no fancy or even reasonable food options.
I got my coffee, apples and a cupcake that a kind officer brought me, wishing me a happy Birthday. I teared up- such small gesture, after all the embarrassment I had endured, I could not believe it. I wish I could have hugged her.
I spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the room, my eyes glued at the door, alert every time someone came in. Few more people had arrived overnight, but overall- this room – which is basically a narrow and dark hallway escorting people out of the country-
does not host many people...
I know that my flight departs at 1:30pm, but I still have no ticket on my hands, I don’t have my passport, neither my belongings or even shoe-laces. I also don’t know what time it is, so I keep checking with the officer on duty. He really wished there would be a clock there, but of course, everything in this room is designed to feel you helpless, weak, and ..
I just can’t miss this flight! Please, don’t forget about me!!
Finally, somebody comes in and calls my name. “Marta, let’s get you out of here” !
I give my best wishes to the other 3 girls sitting there, one more sad and destroyed
than the other, and I leave the room.
I put my bags on trolley and I am invited to sit-down, to wait few more minutes before
the final paper-work is signed.
It’s the same chair, the one where I was first sat down two days ago, when I was petrified, scared, exhausted, sick in my stomach, and cold in body. It was like I was sat in a time-machine, all those feelings came back to me, flashing in front of my eyes.
What I had endured, I couldn’t even grasp... never had I experienced or imagined how it feels to lose your freedom, be helpless yet so incredibly strong in the situation.
They were ready! Two female officers were going to escort me to my gate.
I took the cart with my bags, heavy backpack with the proud sticker badges of the countries I’ve been to and half-broken sports bag full of gifts that I intended
to give to my friends in America.
We left through one door, going through a long dark hallway, another door, an elevator and one final door that we pushed open to finally enter the terminal building.
This was the first time I saw daylight, blazing through the big rooftop windows, almost hurting my eyes. I couldn’t hold my tears. I had spent 14 hours in the air and 48 hours in the customs office. Daylight had never felt so beautiful. I pushed my cart with both officers by my side- people staring at us- I certainly didn’t pass for an obvious criminal,
but quite an exit there..
I recognized the main hall of LAX where huge screen showed all the gates and departing times. The last time I was here in April, I was flying first class to Sydney.
Now I was escorted by two police officers. I don’t think (hope) that there will ever be an airport that provides me with such contrasting experiences.
We arrived at the gate where boarding was just about to commence. Tahiti airways direct flight to Paris (Flying from Tahiti to LAX, having two hours stop to re-fuel and continuing on.) Newly wedded couples, fresh tan, I was quite the contrast to the rest of the passengers.
And of course, they couldn’t shy away from looking at the situation I was in.
Is she a criminal? Will she be on our flight?
I had to pay 100$ more for an extra check-in bag- it was the first thing that made me laugh these days- I had carried blankets and place-mats from Bali as gifts and now I had to carry them all the way back to Europe (all the money I saved on bargaining, I spent on extra baggage costs and shipping fees). After my bags were checked in at the gate, we stepped aside. The officers took my mobile phone out of the yellow envelope and allowed me to make a phone call, which is not what is normally allowed...
As soon as I turned the phone on, 100 messages came in. The only person I was in contact with was Joe and I knew he would inform everyone else about what had happened. But even Joe was informed that I would be flying to London a day earlier, so that was the first time when I informed him. “I am still at LAX! Boarding flight to Paris now! I can’t talk anymore, and I won’t be given my phone until the moment we take-off.
Please inform Katrina that I am coming!! I have to go!”
That is all I could say before handing my phone back.
We had to wait until everyone boards, soaking up the last minutes of the air of this airport,
I observed the happy couples passing me by and reminded myself it is my birthday!
Finally, the last passenger to board, I was escorted by the officers to my seat. A full flight and I was seated all by myself in the last row. Like a true criminal.
They informed me that cabin crew will hold on to the documents until we land in Paris.
I will never forget the feeling of finally taking-off, flying over LAX airport, higher, higher up in the sky. I have never been happier to leave a place. And what will it take for me to ever come back...? It’s a question I still ask myself, a year later.
It is painful to write this, to recall the events of that time, filled with fear, humiliation and not knowing. Why did I get so unlucky?
The officer who was responsible for my case said that “they should have not let you in, back in April, when you came through New York. I have to do their job now”
He was probably right, but New York would have never done this to me.
My greatest love will always remain that in my heart and for however long it takes for me to heal, whenever I will be ready- New York will be there for me!
It seemed like the fastest 12-hour flight. Cabin crew offered me champagne, wishing me Happy Birthday they gave me a gift-bag with travel size toiletries and some snacks (making other passengers even more confused about the entire situation).
I was listening to my music, sleeping across the empty seats, looking out the window.
The plane was flying over North Canada, and for the first time in my life I experienced ‘Midnight sun’ – it never got dark, the light followed me all the way till Paris.
Once again, I wished myself a happy Birthday as I took a bite of the cupcake that was given to me earlier in the morning by one of the officers. The icing was so incredibly sweet, filling my mouth with the fake cheap strawberry flavor.
That was my last taste of America!
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