“groovy mother...”

About 11 months, 2 weeks ago, Charlie B commented:

Welcome to America, indeed. I've just returned from a holiday in Chicago where, upon arrival, we stood in the immigration line for two hours.

That's two hours, off the back of a near nine hour flight, with a cranky one-year-old.

Then, the immigration official informed me that they needed to do "further checks" on me. Just me. Not my wife and child.

So I stood by a pillar for 20 minutes before being collected and dumped into a holding area for another hour. I'd estimate about another forty people of various ethnic groups are sitting about looking glum. Me and my Anglo-Saxon bretheren are looking at each other and shrugging.

Then, another immigration official. No nonsense with this dude, just four damn hard questions:

1) What am I doing in America? (Visiting friends to become Godparents to their child).

2) What do I do for a living? (Keep it simple: I'm a computer programmer).

3) Where have I travelled in the past twelve months? (Nowhere, having a baby kind of screws up any international jet-setting lifestyle one may have had).

4) Have I ever had any military or firearms training? (WTF? No.)

Then, through to the baggage hall to collect waiting wife and child (both, by now very cranky after over an hour of waiting).

Finally, a full bag-search by customs. What were they looking for? I'm not sure, but probably not the underwear and socks I had with me.

Welcome to America, people. The Police State is already here.