UK - NO EXIT STAMPS! THEY LIED TO ME & CALLED ME A LIAR

To show you how racists UK immigration are, one of the demerits leveled against granting me entry was the lack of departure, or exit, stamps in my passport from the time I left London when I travelled via bus to Berlin. Their stance was that I, in fact, overstayed my welcome and sneaked out and here was the proof: no Exit stamps!

They dismissed my assertion that the officials didn't stamp my passport as unbelievable and grasping at straws

Only get this: there are no such things as Exit stamps. Blimey, limey sonsofbitches. But you don't have to take my black word for it. Here's a white blogger by the name of Nomadic Matt. Happy reading!

With the deluge of desperate peoples fleeing eastern Europe and Africa for London I like to think the chickens are coming home to roost. 

Ever wonder if Argentina has black people?

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Josephine Baker wondered so and got this fabulous reply: You and I. 

Read more: A Muckraker Other 

Boorish border patrol (SAN YSIDRO)

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All of this mess regarding the flood of Central American immigrants reminds me of my troubles crossing into U.S. You heard right. See, the border patrol is staffed by assholes and giving people a hard time is what these asshole social rejects do best. And since I'm no illegal immigrant my passage through simply could not be stress free.

I'm still getting paid either way!

In May of this year, crossing the San Ysidro port, a young officer (or whatever the hell they term themselves) named SANDOVAL gave me a lot of lip for requesting a Comment Card because to have simply handed me one would have been, well, too simple a thing to do. When I asked to speak to his boss or supervisor he smarted off that his boss was in "Washington"; but, gathering my unwavering intent on writing a letter, the real icing on the cake came when the braggadocious bastard exclaimed: So what! I'm still getting paid either way! And he repeated it for good measure. I'm still getting paid! 

Doesn't his attitude just say it all. 

He then made a photocopy of my passport for rebuttal purposes to my complaint. A trip to the Customs & Border Patrol (CBP) website provides for complaints to be made in one of two ways: anonymous or non-anonymous. I filled in mine with my name and age because I wanted to get a response on this smartass jerk. (I have the impression they expect persons to write anonymously; that way CBP doesn't have to get back to you and if they don't have to get back to you, then why bother claiming to investigate the complaint? It's a no brainer when you think about it. Govt workers don't want to work. That's why they applied for work in the govt in the first place. Remember: I'm still getting paid! ) 

Weeks went by with nothing but lip service from the Supervisory Program Manager at San Diego's field office, a Mssss Wilson, who, again, requested my name and date of birth.

if they [CBP] don't have to get back to you, then why would they bother to investigate the complaint?

Then, well over a month later, this Wilson chick emails she has a response -- and would like to mail it to me. Say what? All of sudden email wouldn't do?...
See, rather than police the police these cocksuckers want to sweep misdeeds under the rug and, instead, get something on those who complain about pig behaviour. I kindly assured Msssss Wilson it was all right to continue corresponding electronically but that, in lieu of such, she was welcome to address the letter to me via ACLU's San Diego office and provided their street address for her convenience.

Still haven't heard back from the cunt yet. 

Travelling to America

Talk about mixing with a white crowd!

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Well I'll be a monkey's uncle! America has a black president AND a black klansman? Shiiiet. No, not that has-been hack Michael Steele but a real, live black Klu Klux Klan member by the name of Ron Stallworth. And here, throughout my travels, I thought I was always around white people.

But hold on to your multiculturalist applause. There's a caveat: Mr Stallworth was an undercover policeman. But who, you ask, did he manage to stay under the sheet without even failed presidential candidate David Duke finding out? Read the Huffington Post article here. 

Better still, visit his personal web log
Black Klansman.

What's next! Men marrying men??

HANDICAP ONLY ~ Border crossing (San Ysidro)

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Imagine: You are in standing traffic on a hot, hot day and surrounded by an indefatigable stream of beggars - physically deformed humans, small dirty children, worn mothers, old people, musicians, drunkards - all, ostensibly, selling you stuff to which you make a point of saying no  while trying not to say yes to the equally plentiful legitimate vendors selling ice cream, cold drinks including beer, sweet smelling hot gorditas right off the grill -- and you are stuck in this traffic jam for the next foreseeable hour. At least. More than once you glance over at the drivers around you and say to yourself, I wish I was in a car. Then I'd be there already.

The San Ysidro border crossing, notorious for being America's - if not one of the world's - busiest and most congested ports of entry, has become moreso in the past ten days. The reason being, since two weeks ago, U.S. Border Control took the step of limiting one of their four designated pedestrian lanes to handicap persons only. Even the armchair traveler can well imagine how fewer handicapped persons than non-handicapped persons pass through any sphere of public facilities let alone border crossings. If you guessed the HANDICAP ONLY lane is virtually empty, you are right. If you can guess why American border patrol took this move, I would love to hear it -- because they, the border control, are not forthcoming.*

Until roughly two weeks ago there were four designated lanes: 

1. Handicap/Bus passengers (e.g., people traveling on Greyhound wherein they unboard with all of their belongings, pass through Immigration and then, if not detained, reboard on the other side) 
2. General Public (passport holders)
3. Ready Lane (holders of special identification cards for "rapid" passage such as Mexican citizens who commute daily for work or Americans with passport cards) 
4. Travelers possessing Sentri cards. 

With the elimination of the shared line for charter bus passengers those travelers no longer unboard near the front of the border crossing but, rather, at the back -- like everyone else. As a result the waiting line, which though typically long was infrequently standstill, is now visibly longer round the clock and significantly much, much slower -- round the clock. 

I heard the horror stories of crossing into southern California from Tijuana but, personally and irregardless of the hour I went to the border crossing, I never waited more than fifty minutes to pass through be it on foot or bus. What once consumed an hour - maximum - now drags on for around three hours or more. By some impersonal entity's measure this move from "not so bad" to worse is progress; but not for those of us who stand waiting in line.

the time it takes me to walk through the border crossing from Tijuana a motorist could drive from Los Angeles to southern San Diego

Blake R. is a young American who moved to Tijuana two years ago for the affordable living. He works in a bar in San Diego. He recognizes the change in crossing into San Ysidro. His boss is lenient with minor tardiness too because, like Blake, he also is an expat living in Tijuana. "This is insane! We should've been up at the gate by now," he says, referring to  the demarcation of U.S. soil. He's on his third cigarette since we've been chatting in line. "Before, we were talking and laughing. Now look how quiet everyone is." The change was noticeable. "I feel tired and I haven't done anything...and still got to go to work. This [expletive] sucks! And I have to do this every day...." 

He and so many others. Health and transportation industries now recognize the reality of commuter stress. The US Census Bureau gathers working adults commute an average of 25 minutes each way (not bad, right?) with extreme commutes in the definitive ballpark of 90 minutes upwards. The foot crossing at San Ysidro takes more than twice the time of extreme commute. (Does this warrant an 'extreme, extreme commute' definition?) To put it in perspective, for the time it takes me to walk through the border crossing from Tijuana into California, a motorist could drive from Valporaiso University in Valporaiso, Indiana, to Indiana University in Bloomington in roughly three hours; or, say, from Los Angeles to southern San Diego. According to a psychology study by Stephanie Lynne Morrow the hassle of daily commuting can seem harmless enough (after all not everyone can work from home) but the "impact of chronic exposure to minor stressors over time can be quite deleterious to well-being." She goes on to quote other research that suggests daily hassles "may be even more relevant than actue, dramatic life events in relating to physical and psychological health."

Thankfully my crossing is not a daily one. But I have missed two work assignments owing to the bureaucracy of hurry up-and-wait. Nothing sticks in your crawl like being prepared and making sure every t is crossed and i, dotted just to then be handed another form to be filled out in triplicate. Maria, Blake and I are in our 20s and 30s. Many people in line are much older. I tried asking some of the Mexican elderly near me but they weren't too forthcoming. "Ridiculo" and "gobierno!" was the general verdict as they wagged their heads in dismay. 

In addition to the eeking foot traffic, the border agency - and it is heavily manned - operates only one of their two X-ray machines for all bags, irregardless of size, passing into the United States. As a result the four designated lanes eventually merge into one as each person holding anything must wait his turn to place the bag/suitcase/purse/package on the conveyor belt while four agents sit and watch the screen on the opposite side of the machine. It is hard to comprehend the improvement accomplished in taking more time to complete a task. Then again, maybe, like Blake, I am just too tired to think about. 

*I explained to a few of the idle-looking agents that I was writing a travel piece and, naturally, wanted to submit accurate information for print but none of them imparted anything other than the obvious: there was no more special lane for bus travelers.

The cyclical sickness of trusting coyotes

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Seems to me if you can scratch together thousands of dollars you can improve your lot where you are -- unless you're running from the mob or gov't or some organization bent on killing you. Otherwise, with that much money, one can develop a business (with oodles of marketing/public relations frills), go to college or take correspondence courses, hire private tutors, or, at the very least, move his ass to a better part of town -- anything but give it away to human traffickers to sneak him into AMERICA so that one can live the good life of being a human pack mule and indentured servant. 

Latin Americans risk life to get to USA to live the "American dream." Can anyone say stupid?

Latin America makes a helluva lot of noise against capitalism yet Latin Americans risk life, family estrangement and sanity to get to USA to live the "American dream" which is, apparently, rooted in capitalism. Can anyone say stupid or full of shit? Because that is just what it is when, time and again, these people put their faith and cough up THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS into the hands of scumbags who they know to be dishonest, ruthless, cold-hearted.

But America/Americans are the bad guys? Bitch, please. 
Sad, pitiful, insane, and pathetic come to mind. This running to America via human smugglers amounts to a cyclical sickness.

(Another round of illegal immigrants raided in Texas)

I get the for-a-better-life argument; what I don't get is why that argument is only plausible to U.S. soil. And why, upon settling in America, do these desperate peoples refuse to acclimate, to become Americanized, to leave their pasts, which they so earnestly run from, behind rather than cluster and morph into a hyphenated and pseudo America? Where are the shouts of Viva America! Instead, local gov'ts and schools, in the name of multiculturalism, patronize Independence Days for this and that sovereign nation. And, years later, Juan Carlos still pays arbitrary interest to the coyotes (human smugglers) who made his American slavery a reality. And he still can't speak English. Viva...!   

Border bullies (VIDEO)

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United Kingdom Border Assholes (UKBA) is, like many Immigration agencies, staffed by the lower rungs of society who feel validated by their dispensable position on a gov't force. Much like poor white trash divines some divine pride from the mere fact of having pale skin never mind having no formal education, land, bank account, artistic endeavors, or marketable skills outside of auto mechanics or pig farming.

stopped from entering Scotland because I had "sexy underwear" in my luggage

The following report regards the Home Office's bullying tactics on discriminating against foreign students. But it is not solely brown and black students the British authorities dislike. Last September I was stopped from entering Scotland because I had "sexy underwear" and lube in my luggage! The Home Office has yet to reply to my written complaint. The UK resents -resents - having allowed so many people of color, many from its former colonies, onto the island, itself, and is enforcing "reforms" to roll back that tide. Roll, roll your boat and your puny industries. The world dynamics can prosper very well with the American and Eastern markets as well as most markets from European countries. I don't know that I have one thing in my apartment that's MADE IN ENGLAND but I have many things which read MADE IN CHINA/JAPAN/MEXICO/USA.

Are there any readers of color who felt they received undue attention from British border officials?

( @RT_com )

So sexy it's a crime

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Excuse the absence in posts. I was locked up.
Read about it here.

Missed my flight to Spain

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The day started well but didn't end that way. Awoke comfortably early for my flight back to Europe last week. Had time to do little errands like repair my wristwatch band and say good-bye to friends that morning. I even took the bus to the airport instead of a cab. 

The first leg of the flight from Puerto Vallarta to Mexico City was delayed, cutting down the three hour layover to two hours. No skin off my nose, I thought. Once in Mexico City I luxuriated in the layover time...browsing magazine stands, writing in my journal and people-watching. After two hours I went to the boarding gate to fly to Spain! Then I'm told I can't board without my Mexican tourist visa; iin fact, that I can't leave the country without it. Where is it? the airline people asked. I answer that I wasn't given one.

"When I rode the bus through Tijuana no one gave me any form to fill out."
"Then you must go get one now from Immigration," they said. "Hurry the plane is ready to leave."

That was as helpful as it got.

The unfortunate thing about being law abiding in foreign countries is that persons hired in gainful employment don't speak English whereas people on the street do

From here the mis-adventure snowballed. I had to run around the terminal(s) with my bags trying to get this fucking paper stamped. One Immigration desk was nearby but she only handed out the forms. I would have to exit and go to another official for the stamp -- and that office was not nearby. After getting permission from federal police to go out I made my way to this nondescript office where I'm requested to fill out another two forms  --and pay something or another. And the girl's English was atrocious. (The unfortunate thing about being law abiding in foreign countries is that persons hired in gainful employment don't speak English whereas people on the street do. You'd understandably mistake those you meet in nice, respective clean jobs for being educated and worldly but it's likely as not that, yes, they went to the rights schools but only because their parents had the right money. Their advancements come via cronyism and marriages -- just like in the old days. How can you be a college graduate and native North American without learning how to speak English, the most important language in the world?!) 

I didn't pay the fee. Couldn't tell if I was paying for a fine or a process fee and, by this point, my chance of getting on the plane was dashed. Fifteen minutes had passed already. The plane was gone. But what about the next one? I still had hope. As far as Aeromexico was concerned I wanted to change my flight and that - change - required I buy a new ticket -- at three times the price. "It's policy, senor." What about a flight for tomorrow or the day after? "It's policy, senor." Policy! Policy! Policy! Airlines are goddamn robber barons. Thus my return ticket was, as we say in German, kaput.

My luggage felt like baggage

For hours I languished in the airport, scheming a new game plan. But the going costs of flying abroad were astronomical. So...I figured I'd regroup at leisure: I'd take the bus back to Vallarta (because being in Mexico City is a ticking time-bomb) and unpack and resume travel in a week or, heck, maybe a month. Always look on the bright side.... It was an overnight bus ride on ETN, the most expensive coach line (see below post), whose comfort  I hoped would calm me down. It didn't and it wasn't comfortable. More, the apartment I'd just left was suddenly no longer available. Another guy who had earlier offered me to cheaply rent his spare room suddenly had to get his father's permission first. "Could I wait until July?" he wondered. Click. My luggage felt like baggage. The morning was hot! I sat on a park bench and filled a garbage bag full of stuff and sat that bag of goodies (plus the now empty suitcase) on the curb for garbage collection.  
I would make do with whatever fitted into my two carry-on's.  In under ten minutes the suitcase was carried off. 

I went to an out-of-the-way hostel near the edge of town which I imagined would have vacancies. They did. I was the sole guest. I told myself I'd take the weekend to exhale and regroup. It wasn't the first time I found myself stranded; but, thankfully, this time I have money. And I'm resourceful.  
Always look on the bright side of your life...especially when it's so fucking hard to do so.    
  

Bus travel from Los Angeles to Vallarta

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For, perhaps, the second time I took a 'road trip' to Mexico -- on the bus. 
Travelling from downtown Los Angeles on the Hispanic branch of Greyhound, Crucero, we went through San Diego and onward to Tijuana. I thought about paying six dollars less and just taking the train to San Ysidro from San Diego but, then, worried that might complicate passage so I went ahead and paid $26 to ride the bus across the border and straight to the Tijuana bus terminal. (In hindsight this was the better plan because it saved me from the hassle and additional cost of hiring a taxi to drive me to the bus terminal.)

I remembered to pack a blanket, ear plugs, water and snacks, and an inflatable pillow

From there it was a matter of buying a ticket to my destination: Vallarta.
I almost settled with Elite but the guy tried to cheat me on the price. Clearly posted on the wall was the day's USD exchange rate: $12.50 pesos; but this cabron attempted to charge me a rate of $11.50, thereby earning more than a hundred extra pesos on the ticket -- for his pocket. There was no way he could explain away the fuzzy math so I got my money back and went to another counter. TAP bus travels direct from Tijuana to Vallarta but wasn't departing for another two hours after midnight. But their math added up with mine so I paid the $106 usd ($1,350mxp) and waited. At half pass midnight we took off.

The entire trip consumed thirty-five hours. It was only unpleasant in that some jerk played his cell phone's radio, another loudly chewed his gum, and the driver(s) wouldn't shut off the goddamn DVDs but found it impossible to switch on the overhead reading lights. I guess no body in Mexico reads. Other than that the long journey was not so bad. Thankfully the bus was never crowded so I merely changed to another seat whenever I found a fellow passenger inconsiderate.

TAP bus travels direct from Tijuana to Vallarta. The entire trip consumed thirty-five hours

Since I did this years before I remembered to pack a blanket, ear plugs, water and snacks, and an inflatable pillow. Didn't bring quite enough to drink and, at some point, broke down and paid the extortionist rates of vendors. Twenty pesos for a bottle of mineral water that typically goes for 8 pesos? Greedy bastards! 

We finally arrived at half pass noon. It would be more fun to travel such a trek with a buddy but it still beats the cattle call of modern air travel. No undressing, no X-ray tube to step through, no frisking; in short, nothing intrusive and borderline demeaning.

THINGS ON A PLANE

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While the TSA at LAX duly confiscated my good (full!) bottle of single-malt scotch before I boarded the airplane, they left the other remaining non-terrorist items in my carry-on bag:

was never good at paper, rock, scissors anyway

MUGSHOT #1: Evil Matches; Acquitted of the Zeppelin tragedy; greatest human discovery since the wheel, sliced bread, the Internet; no priors for air terrorism.

MUGSHOT #2: Sharp Scissors; Standard reminder of running safety; suspected of youth corruption via association with a preening gay US pop band; no priors for air terrorism.

 

MUGSHOT #3: Sneaky Swiss Army Knife; world famous connection with frustratingly neutral, non-aggressive country; practical life-saver multi-tool; no priors for air terrorism

UK Border Assholes

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Once again the best laid plans of mice and men were screwed up by a bitch working at border patrol (it should go without saying she was a white bitch).

Two days ago I was on a bus from Paris to London (after having spent half a day riding the train to Paris...ICE was five - five! - hours behind schedule because of a little snowfall that wouldn't even make a Hoosier sneeze). Exited through French Customs without problems but two minutes later at the UK Customs I had nothing but problems -- starting with the white bitch.

It was a criminal interrogation. They wanted a fugitive; I am not that.

Never mind that I had a doctor's appointment in London, reserved lodgings and plenty of money the UK Border Patrol were more concerned with:

• why I wasn't in America? 
• why I travelled alone?
• where did I live in Germany, Italy, USA? (seriously they wanted the addresses)
• if I visited the Middle East?
• how did I get money? 
• and why wasn't I in America (again)?
• why didn't officials stamp my passport?

Why? Because any single black man travelling outside of America must be on the run from the Law. He can't possibly be a writer. Black people don't "backpack". That much is true: We blackpack. After two hours I knew I wasn't going to London so I stopped cooperating. They wanted a fugitive and I am not that. After four hours of this extra "interviewing" the pig went through every content of my luggage; every piece of note paper...every page of book, including my diary...every item of toiletry...every snack...and he even counted out every single euro I had. This was not an "interview". It was a criminal interrogation.

Of course, to their chagrin, they found 

• zero contraband
• zero bomb schematics 
• zero drug paraphernalia
• zero outstanding arrest warrants or felony charges
• zero extra passports

Then they wanted to finger print me and archive them in a "visitor" database for a decade. Oh hell no! Prisoners are finger printed, not tourists...especially when  no one else in the course of that evening was removed from his bus, searched, and presented with an ink pad. But, of course, these racist pigs aren't racist! After seven hours - at midnight! - French police were called to escort me back to the French side where they left me on the sidewalk. No more buses were running so I was stuck in the dead of cold night in the middle of nowhere. 

So I missed my medical appointment and wasted lots of plans & money on travel reservations. I don't need to steal work from some British schmuck. I'm American! In fact, if the UK is so concerned with keeping their own employed they need to take back their limey asshole scum journalist Piers Morgan.

  

Rainy Monday in Berlin

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Last Monday it was grey and misty - and, naturally, chilly - as I walked across the Warshauer Strasse bridge to the East Side Gallery. Actually, I was just walking aimlessly when I saw the stretch of artistically painted preserved Berlin Wall and realized I had been here before -- a decade ago on my first trip to Europe.


I got my passport stamped with a Checkpoint Charlie (West) stamp. Can't wait to see the German officials' reactions to that one in the airports!


Since I wasn't in the tourist mood - and am not a big fan of walking in the rain - I hopped a train to visit a familiar in Charlottenburg and eat some hot tea and apfeltasche (homemade apple pie).

Airport body-scan machines

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Here is a telling article about the "security" measures being quickly implemented in American airports. They are feckless, useless, intrusive, time-consuming and over-the-top...but it's the human personnel that are worse: Security screeners shout at travellers and are curt to the point you want to punch their big mouths. TSA apparently hires from the bottom of the job pool. The lowly employees they hire wouldn't and couldn't stop a terrorist if one were going through the line because smoke-and-mirrors and shouting is no match against the real thing. Read on:

Opt Out of A Body Scan? Then Brace Yourself 

$$ fee to enter U.S.A. for travelers

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This is just ridiculous. Now foreign travelers coming to America must pay $14 if they are not already in possession of a U.S. visa. The long-winded name for this tourist tax is the "operational and travel promotion fee" and it extends to citizens of the EU. Naturally the EU is none too happy about this -- and understandably so.

No blacks in America?

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Believe it or not, some countries do not believe black people are from America id est are bona fide American citizens.

Read more: A Muckraker Other: THIS IS A LIE

Type Turkey or Shitstanbul in the above search box to read my archived experiences.

Something fishy with U.S. State Dept and passports

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There is something going on with U.S. passports and the American State Dept. Supposedly state-of-the-art and foolproof and secure I certainly encounter more than a few hiccups or long waits whenever crossing the U.S. border.  Whatever information is encrypted is beyond me. On one travel it gives pause to the border pigs yet on another it registers something else or, miraculously, nothing at all.

I'm not the only one with passport headaches. A NY woman is repeatedly hassled whenever crossing into -- surprise, surprise -- Canada and -- oh wow surprise! -- back again. Her's is a frustrating case of mistaken identity which the govts can't get their asses around to correcting. As if it is so improbable that two human beings can share names, birth dates, and even skin color; only this poor woman is too often mistaken for, apparently, a black man. Now I read the Iroquois are having their sovereign nation travel limited less they comply and get American passports. The country is warning they won't be allowed back in without a U.S. passport and other countries are weary of issuing visas to them if they can't return home.

What the hell are Obama and Hillary Clinton doing?

I'm so glad I'm in Europe.

No trouble going through UK & EU

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UPDATE: Four years later it's a much different story. The Immigration "reforms" of the UK have made them vigilant against travellers of color. They resent foreigners(studying there). I, myself, was stopped and detained twice.
It's been nearly a week since I left NYC and came across the pond and it's worth saying that I had no hiccups, stress, beef or third-degree passing my black ass through English officials at Heathrow Airport or German border patrol at Berlin's Tegel Airport. No twenty questions, no sarcastic undertones, no snarky attitude, nothing remotely racist--- like the Qúebecunt border patrol.

I had forgotten it could be so easy. I felt like a white person.

Greetings from Germany !!

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This time two weeks past I was in a little funk of depression at having been denied travelling rights due to spiteful Canadian border patrol racist because I ought to have flown to Germany that day. Now, two weeks later, I am in Germany. So fuck you Quebec!

If more black men ventured the hell out of America they would see that they can be perceived as men, primarily, and black men, secondly

My passage two days ago was, as far as border patrol goes, uneventful. No twenty questions, no biased questions, no long wait while everyone else (non-dark skin like me) processed smoothly. Neither the English nor the German officials singled me out or made me feel belittled in any fashion. Honestly, I felt SOMETHING must be askew if things were progressing this flawlessly! But, no, that was just part of the conditioning of North American and Latin countries: that I must be strange because I am black. If more black men ventured the hell out of America (and overly regulatory Canada) they would see that they can be perceived as men, primarily, and black men, secondly. If only occurring in instances this "atypical" reaction is rewarding. Color-blind treatment from people outside of your color can be startling or, at the very least, it is noticeable.

I don't yet speak good German but I would rather try to live here than be bound in a country where my good English only fingers me as a trouble-maker who must be up to no good.