Only a Passport
Hossein Sobhani
“American passports this way!”
Ignoring the shouting, I hid my burgundy-colored passport among other documents. I filed through artificial pathways that are modified as needed for the comfort of U.S. nationals. Americans carry themselves differently than everybody else; they know they’re on home turf. They feel entitled to special treatment, as they should. It’s their homeland, after all.
The mood was different for the rest of us. Some were relaxed, proudly displaying their passports. Some were on edge, constantly checking and rechecking their documents. Some busied themselves with their phones, hoping to make time go faster. Finally, it was my turn.
“Why are you coming to the United States?” the officer asked.
Starting with the most difficult question. Giving this question a proper answer would take at least a few hours that neither of us had, so I sufficed to say:
“I’m here to study.”
He carefully inspected my documents along with my passport.
“Are you bringing any food with you to the United States?” he asked.
I wished I could. I wished I could bring my favorite mom-made dishes with me just to breathe in their smell and be reminded of home. But let’s not open that door. I had to answer the officer before he suspected me of hiding something.
“Just some noodles,” I said.
“That’s fine,” he said. “Are you bringing more than $10,000 with you to the United States?”
Good God, do people really have that much money to spare for their travels?
“No,” I said.
He returned my documents and passport, and I went through baggage claim and customs. Past the customs gate, the entire atmosphere changed.
I found somewhere quiet to sit while I waited for my next flight. A few minutes passed, and a middle-aged man approached me. He asked if I spoke English, to which I answered yes.
He went on a five-minute rant about how his family was in another city and needed $100 to get there. I told him that I had just arrived in the U.S. and I had no money to give him. He disappeared quickly.
I found it funny that my first real interaction in the U.S. was with someone trying to scam some money out of me. Land of the free and home of the brave, they say. And I felt so out of place, since I am neither of the two.
