8 October 2015
In a long, snaking queue at the airport, hot in my padded coat because there was no room to pack it, I dragged my huge suitcase behind me, looking at my watch as I edged ever closer to the desk. The woman with heavy makeup wore a British Airways uniform that reminded me of the ones we once had at Dream Factory with sun ray pleated skirts that blew over your head in a high wind. She smiled and held out her hand for my passport. As she took it I struggled to get my case on the conveyor belt.
“Where’s your visa?” She asked, the smile suddenly gone from her face. “You can’t enter the United States without a visa.”
I turned to Commando standing behind with his own case. “We forgot to get the visas!” Continue reading Last minute rush