Welcome

to America.

Signs and adverts here are a mixture of imperatives and real American colloquialisms, like a Security Council resolution drawn up by a wharf rat. FEDERAL LAW REQUIRES THESE SEATS BE MADE AVAILABLE TO SENIORS beneath the airport transfer boast-board, "BART...and you're there." Whythankyou, yes I am.

at Customs the Visa Waiver form I didn't have when I met the immigration lady demanded baldy, USE ENGLISH, in bold. There's really no fannying around here.

"I apologise" I said "It's ok" she said, "It pays to be polite" I thought when she said "Go and fill out the visa waiver form and join the front of the queue". I'd only have to wait one person more.

I came back. "Didn't I give you my pen? Go back and get my pen" she said. I lost my spot at the front of the queue to another entrant to the United States of America.

Mr Wang on the other side saw me, he said, sent back a couple times by her so decided to help me out. So I gave him the female immigration lady's pen, explaining I'd been instructed to return it post-haste. I also gave him the Bic pen I'd received from Vincent the Bic pen man a week or two back, as interest.

Customs weren't cleared yet though. Not having a print-off of my returning flight e-ticket, I was sent to Secondary, a small room over-spilling with exhausting-looking travellers and wise-cracking immigrations officials. I would have found it tedious and straining after roughly 25 hour of travel via Beijing, if I wasn't delighted to already be fulfilling an American stereotype- isn't it always tough to get into the USA in all the films and books?

40 minutes later, I picked my bags off a baggage trolley a bag-man was loading and moving, to make the last remaining bags more visible. Nick of time, I joked with him.