Lost in Translation 4

My last entry in this series occurred back in 2019, so I thought I'd tell another story which happened during my travels. People have asked why I have this distinct dislike for the Brits. For the 5 of you who read this blog, you read in my blog entry titled Lost in Translation 1, how I was physically thrown out of a pub in London. That did not endear me to those people but this story is the ultimate.

Back in the summer of 2013, I was teaching a class in Hannover, Germany. I've taught there many times. One of the things that I do while in Europe is to arrange to go to other universities to give research talks. It's a way to network and to see more of the place. It's pretty cheap for my hosts since I'm already in Europe. So this particular summer, I arrange to go give a talk at the University of East Anglia in London. I had a former colleague working there at the time and she arranged a quick stop.

The plan was that I'd fly over from Hannover to London on a Friday morning and give my talk at noon. I'd then have lunch with the faculty and have that afternoon free to explore the city and all of the next day, since my one-hour flight back to Hannover wouldn't leave until 10pm on Saturday night. A perfect way to parlay a mini-excursion in Europe out of doing some work.

I don't fly into Heathrow airport since it's too expensive and crowded. I use a lesser-known airport named Stansted because many low-cost airlines use it as their base. It's a bit further out of the city but nothing that can't be overcome with a short train ride to the center of the city.

My flight was smooth and I arrive at Stansted at 7am. I don't have any luggage since I'm just doing a one day stay over and have what I need in my backpack. I then proceed to immigration so that I can get my passport stamped and proceed to the train station. That's when the problems arise. I filled out this card which asks what you are planning to do in the country and how long do you plan to stay. I wait in line like everyone else and then when I get to the window I had this lady take my card and my passport. She asks me how long do I plan to be in the country and I say a day. She then asks what am I planning to do to which I tell her that I'm going to give a talk at the university and then do a bit of sightseeing. She asks to see my work visa. I tell her that I'm not planning to do any work. I'm just giving a talk and then heading back to Hannover the next day. No need for a visa.

The lady says that giving the talk constitutes work and I need a visa since I'm getting paid. I tell her that I'm not getting paid. She then asks me who paid for my flight and hotel. I tell her that the university did since I'm an invited guest, not a worker. She says that's payment and rudely stamps denied on my card. So now I'm totally confused. I'm just standing there wondering if this is a joke. After I gather my senses I ask her what I'm supposed to do. She says that I should go and get back on a plane and go where ever I came from. I tell her that this is impossible given that my flight back won't leave for another 36 hours. She says that I should just go wait and then calls up the next person.

I don't have a cell phone which works in Europe at this time and even if I did, I wouldn't have known how to call my colleague anyway. I have no choice but to go back to the stand and fill out another card and get back in line. When my turn comes again, I'm standing in front of this lady and she asks why did I come back. I tell her that I'm just going to keep doing this until she lets me in since I really have nothing else to do. No way, I'm sitting in that area which is not even really in the airport for 36 hours. Once again, she stamps denied on my card and calls up the next person.

I say okay and go back and get another card and get in line again. By this point we're both pretty hot. Once my turn comes, I'm standing in front of this lady but I refuse to leave and I refuse to let another person come to the window. Either she stamps my card or we're going to be standing off like this for the next 36 hours.

There is this big one-way mirror above the entrance where I suppose security and management watch what is going on. The lady looks up to the mirror and soon enough a man shows up. He asks her what's going on. She then proceeds to tell him that I shouldn't be allowed in the country since I don't have a work visa. She then says that I "claim" to be a professor from the US and that I'm coming to London to give a talk. Why would anyone from the US be coming to London via Stansted? She then goes on to say that she doesn't believe that I'm a professor at all and I probably faked the passport. She thinks I'm probably a Nigerian trying to sneak into their country. At this point, I say "hey, you know I'm standing right here and can hear what you're saying, right?" She gives me a dirty look which I return.

The guy sees that the line is backed up and tells me to come with him. Finally, some satisfaction! The guy then takes me to the side and asks if I have any way of confirming. I tell him the name of my host and the school and that he can find it on the web and call to check. He says okay and then walks me to a room. I'm thinking it's going to be his office. However, it's some sort of detention cell. There is this long concrete bench with metal rings running along the wall. Handcuffed to it are these two guys. I'm not handcuffed but I'm asked to wait in there. I'm like "wtf?" So I sit on the bench as far away from those two as possible and try not to make eye contact.

I'm in there for about 40 minutes before the guy comes back and says "You know what? You really are a professor!" I want to slap him but I gather up my stuff and get my passport and head out. By now it's 10:30am. The bus ticket that they bought for me was supposed to only be valid through 8am so I'm in trouble and still really pissed over what happened at the airport.

I get on the train and proceed to the city center. However, when the guy comes by to collect tickets he notices that mine has expired and tells me that I'll have to get off the train at the next station. I'm just beside myself with anger. I proceed to tell him the entire incredible story of what happened to me and why I was late. The story is so odd that he lets me stay on. Who in the hell could make up a story like that?

I finally get to the campus where my host is waiting. She says that they were all worried about me and wondered what happened. The airport guy apparently never called to verify who I was or who I was coming to see. He probably just looked on Google and called it a day. No idea why that took 40 minutes.

The rest of the day proceeds as normal. However, I've had it with Brits. I stay in the hotel the rest of that day and night and as long as I can on Saturday. I don't want to see any parts of their creepy city and just want to get back to Germany.

In the end, I got a very nice letter from the president of the university who personally apologizes for the treatment that I received and says that he spoke personally about how embarrassing it was to the minister of immigration or somebody like that. So, yes, I do have a strong dislike for the Brits.

Have any comments about this or other blog posts? Contact me at garyhoover2012[@]gmail.com