I had been waiting for this moment for a whole year. It took me that much time to do my paperwork. God knows how many nights I couldn't sleep from being worried over the matter. Especially on the day before my interview with the American Embassy officer, I hardly ate or drank anything and could not sleep at all. Once I was inside of the embassy building, all I could do was to pray. Seeing other people turned away with their passports in their hands freightened me immensely. Finally, they announced my name, and I walked to the narrow path to the check-in booth. It reminded me so much of the movie "Dead Man Walking" when the prisoner walked that long hall leading to his death. Ironically, my malk wasn't to a death penalty, but rather to obtain my "ticket to heaven." After questioning my background, the officer inquired about the purpose of my visit to America."Education," I answered.
"Can't you get your education in here?" he questioned.
"I can, but I am majoring in International Relation, so I would like to learn English in an English- -speaking country," I replied.
"Then why don't you go to England?" he retorted.
"I've heard that Americans are friendlier and more tolerable to visitors than Englishmen," I nervously replied.
He smerked at me and kept my passport. Did this mean that I had passed the iterrogatio? yes! I felt as if I was the happiest and luckiest person on Earth. I was going to get to see The New World.
One week later, I recieved my passport, complete with an American visa, which looked like a dollar. I bought my plane ticket for a flight from Istanbul with connections to Amsterdam and then on to Atlanta, Georgia. When the time came for me to leave, I packed my suitcase and took a taxi to the airport. I was so excited about my new journey. I felt as light as a feather! I was walking on air! I packed everything I owned. Unfortunately, because of the weight limit, I had to leave the majority of my belongings with my roommates. On the way to the airport, I was already dreaming of my new life on another continent.
Everything went smoothly at Istanbul International Airport, but on arrival to Amsterdam, things drastically changed. The Amsterdam airport was smaller and stricter than the Istanbul airport. Impatiently, I stood in line in the third checkpoint lane. When my turn finally came, I handed my passport and flight ticket to the officer. He observed my documents very carefully and examined my passport over and over again. Finally he said, "Your pasport doesn't have an expiration date. Every passport should have an expiration date, no exceptions!" Slam! I was in shock. 
"I have been in different countries and never had any problem."
"We can not allow you to cross the Holland," he told me in a harsh tone and then directed me to a waiting area on the left.
This wasn't happening to me! How could i have come so far with so far yet to go?
Several minutes later, two officers took me into a little room that reminded of iterrogation room for war crime "prisoners"; iron tables, iron chairs and no windows. While they carefully scrutinized my documents, I went to my "inner world" and was talking to myself.
"I wish if I had chosen Air France instead of Northwest Airlines."
"But it was much more expensive, David," I replied to myself.
"It is going to be OK no matter what," I tried to convince myself.
Suddenly a voice interrupted my "conversation."
"You are going back where you came from or you can contact your embassy - those are your only two choices," he charged.
I was so disappointed that I started crying out to God for help and guidance. For the next five or ten minutes, I contemplated a possible solution. Then from out of nowhere, a gentleman approached me. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in civilian clothing, and was wearing an ID badge. Eventhough he didn't look like an officer, I knew he worked for the Amsterdam Airport.
"Problema?" he asked me in a universal language.
"Problema," I answered.
I immediately recognized a Russian accent Could it be that this officer was also a fellow countryman? I soon found out that he was a Russian with Holland citizenship. He took me to his manager and explained the entire situation. Thanks to this friendly officer, they stopped the plane that was about to take off. Many apologies followed our conversation with the other immigration officers. I was so thankful that everything was okey again. My dream, it seemed, was to finally become a reality. I was coming to America!
Written on 10/07/2006
