Welcome to London!

What an adventure this has been!  London was amazing! I had a wonderful tour of Heathrow Airport, and had the rare opportunity to spend 7 magical hours in custody, detained alongside 2 Afghan asylum seekers and an enormous angry woman wearing a moo-moo. But hey, the drinks were free, and they even had complementary crisps! Yay!

I'll try and give the play by play. Prior to arriving in Boston, I had been visiting my sister in St.John's, Newfoundland for a week and a half. Airfare from St.John's was extremely expensive, but I managed to find myself a wicked deal on a flight from Boston to Dublin. I got myself over to Boston, and booked a one night stay in a Hostel downtown. So far, everything was going along smoothly and as planned.

My flight connected at Heathrow airport in London, and would have me arriving in Dublin an hour or two after touching down. No problem I thought. I'm a Canadian citizen and a member of the commonwealth, so I figured it would be smooth sailing and I would soon be on my way to Ireland.

Wrong.

Meet Immigration Officer Bartholomew, aka "Bart the Dickish". I get in line to pass through Border Control, and at this point only one of the stations is staffed. A decent sized line has formed, and so Dick picks up the phone and calls for some help. Twice. Nobody showed for a while and he was starting to look annoyed. It's my turn and I proceed to hand Mr.Dickish my customs declaration, with all available information I can provide. The address of the Hostel I had reserved. How long I would be in Dublin. Where I would be heading afterwards. He asked how much cash I had on hand which was only $40 US. At that point the questions began to get a little more involved. How many credit cards do you have, and what are their limits? He rattled off a few more questions, and I gave him all of the info I could. I was then told to take a seat and wait, as he was "unsatisfied". So is your wife Bart... So is your wife.

Off goes Bart with my passport and boarding passes gripped firmly between his dick fingers. I sat down and waited calmly for about an hour, and at that point it was obvious I would not be making it onto my original flight to Dublin. Bart comes back, pretty much exactly as the flight was finished boarding, and lets me know that I am being detained while they investigate my "claims" further.

WTF? Now this is sounding serious. While being escorted to my luxurious accommodation I asked a few questions to see if I could clear things up. There must be some kind of mistake, I thought. I asked if it was due to financial concerns, and if I could show my bank statements on my tablet. I've been saving for this trip for a few years now, and definitely have enough money to spend a few weeks in the UK. I was told that there would be no point in discussing anything until I had my formal interview. Alright then, I'll just wait. Surely this will be resolved shortly right?

Wrong.

I hand over my bag along with everything from my pockets, and out of the corner or my eye I notice a man putting on latex gloves. Fuck shit fuck!  Instantly in an act of self preservation, my asshole shrinks down three sizes like it's trying to hide. It's like the opposite of the Grinch's heart. Luckily it didn't come to that and they just gave me a pat down. What was with the gloves? Are they just trying to scare people?

The "cell" was fairly large with a few interview rooms along the side. There was a washroom, and plenty of seats along with a TV and a vending machine that gave out free drinks. So I wait. And, wait...

Nothing happens over the next few hours aside from our excitable moo moo wearing friend arriving. She was screaming and yelling, and fighting the security staff every step of the way, which was somewhat entertaining until I realised she would soon be locked in a room with me. She looked like she could have been the poster child of the American Diabetes Association. I moved to a spot where she was less likely to eat me and figured if I surrounded myself with fruit she might stay away.

Finally, it's time for my interview, and at this point I have no idea how long I've been inside. While I was first being processed it seemed like there was a possibility that I might be interviewed by someone other than Mr.Dick. In fact, someone else actually volunteered. But, my man Bart must have enjoyed my company, because he shot down the offer and decided to handle the interview himself.

Many of the questions were repeated, and again I offered everything I could. I asked to show him my financial statements once again, but was declined a second time. Interview ends and I get back to waiting.

Eventually he comes back in, and asks me to join him in the interview room once again. Bad news. Bart explains that he is still not satisfied and that I was being denied entry into the UK. I would then be placed on the next available return flight to Boston. At that point it was obvious that there was absolutely nothing I could do to change his mind. So, I reluctantly signed his papers and sit down again, in completely in shock.

There really wasn't any one thing he could offer as the reason I was being denied. Yes, I left work in August and so I am unemployed... but people quit their jobs to travel all the time.

When it was time (after nearly 8 hours of detention) I was escorted by two men to the appropriate gate and boarded onto the plane. My passport and boarding passes were held by the flight staff for the duration of the flight, until we arrived back in Boston 6 1/2 hours later. At that point it was now nearly 8PM Eastern time, and I had just spent an entire day warping back and forth between time zones. It took over an hour to get my bags and make it back through US Customs, and I had nowhere to stay.

I tried getting back into the Hostel I had stayed at previously, but it was all booked up. So, I started heading for another one except it turns out there are 2 different "School St." in Boston, and I was at the wrong one. Fuck. It was getting pretty late by that point and I had been awake for the better part of the last 30 hours so I was willing to stay anywhere that would take me. Eventually I found a Holiday Inn, and they managed to open up a previously unavailable room. At nearly $200 it must be the most expensive Holiday Inn in the world, but I had to take it. It was either that or find a park bench.