Almost Deported on Day 1
April 16, 2018
So let's be honest here... every trip or big event in my life will start out as a cakewalk, incur an accident or two, and then smooth sailing after the initial wave of anxiety subsides. On our way to O'Hare on Monday night (maybe an hour away from the airport), my sister's car was side-swept by an asshole driver who sped off as the accident occurred. The officers were quick to respond, but it still took up time that I would've had with my family at the airport. Thankfully, we made it just in time to be able to exchange very quick hugs, kisses, and pleasantries (and a glimpse of my mother's tears) before I had to run off to an overly congested TSA.
Cue waiting thirty minutes to even get my passport approved, the Aer Lingus representative appeared to help rush me through security. Once at the metal detector, I thought it was a good idea to take my sweater off to avoid my zipper causing a commotion. However, I was the one to truly start a riot as I pulled off both my sweater AND shirt. Pretty sure I heard shrieks and guffaws, but what's an American to do when she's in a time crunch and avoiding a detector going off? I probably would've been fine, but you know, it makes for a richer story. Now, picture this: fully-clothed, pillow and coat in my arms, cross-body purse swinging, a carry-on rolling on my left side, all while running in what seemed to be heavy as hell rain boots on the way to my gate. Bless those flight attendants though because the look on their faces screamed "run the f*ck faster, please," as I rolled up in my out-of-breath fashion. You would think I'd be in shape by now, but as soon as I found my seat in the cabin, I whipped out my inhaler faster than you can say "help". In reality, I don't particularly enjoy eating meals provided by the airline, but I thought I would at least try out the delicious looking Chicken Provençal (which I would regret once I woke up). Realistically, one would think that a ten-hour flight would be miserable; however, I fell asleep to two-part episode of season 4 of "Brooklyn Nine-Nine" and slept solidly for 8 of the 10 hours. As soon as I woke; however, that chicken decided that it no longer wanted to sit peacefully within my digestive system and made itself known as I hugged the tiny bathtub within the plane. Once at ease, the landing wasn't so awful and my ears barely popped (and thank GOD, or I would've been whining harder about that than being dehydrated).
April 17, 2018
The real surprise would begin as soon as I walked up to customs, having only emails proving why I would be entering the country. Thrown into immediate anxiety, my tics began; I was twitching, dry-heaving, and making my cat-like noises as I waited to be cleared through. To be honest, I was absolutely terrified, and this poor customs officer tried to comfort me as he took note of my issues and listened to me struggle through my explanation of why I was coming into Ireland. After twenty minutes of standing there and trying to figure things out, another customs officer appeared to try and clarify more of my current situation while the original officer kindly brought me water to try and calm my nerves. Another ten minutes and I'm escorted to sit on the unauthorized visitors bench (which I waited another twenty/thirty minutes just to hear the initial options). The two first options suggested that I be rejected from the country and be sent back to the states while the third option entailed that I would buy my own ticket home, be rejected, and then have a negative mark on my passport. At this point, I'm tearing up and becoming more angry at my own ignorance thinking that all of my dreams could come true if I could just get to baggage. I sat there continuing to wipe my tears away as more travelers walked through customs, unable to have my phone or laptop out to call family during this time of distress. . ANOTHER twenty minutes later, the customs officers were able to find my new boss on the other side of the wall and to work out a deal. I would not have to fly all the way back to the states, but instead a short trip to London and back as long as I had the contract stating that I would be training for the company in Ireland.
Seeing how distraught I had become, the second customs officer cracked a joke saying how much better this experience would have gone better if I had been able to bring my emotional service dog with me. I nodded it off saying that I knew that ESAs aren't as prevalent in Ireland and that my dog would've struggled on the flight. He shook his head and assured me that he (the country) took this very seriously. He shared that his friend's younger son is actually on spectrum and has an emotional service dog to aid him as well. Now, I didn't expect anyone to even be close to understanding the issues that I experience, but that officer made it clear that mental health is extremely important to the Irish, and they were more than willing to try to accommodate to my mental health as I was in panic mode. I am EXTREMELY thankful for the kindness of these officers during this small crisis.
Finally, with sweet relief, I made it to my boss Gerry on the other side of the baggage claim and was greeted with a warm hug of reassurance. He, himself, had no idea that I had needed any paperwork to enter Ireland. BUT! I made it out of the airport alive without being deported. Other than Laura Beth Scheffer, I had never met anyone else who was almost or basically deported upon arrival into another country. With all of that said, my new boss brought me to my temporary home, the Moran Red Cow Hotel. After a quick coffee and water meeting to discuss the day's plans, Gerry was nice enough to let me settle in and refresh for a few hours before being introduced to my new co-workers. You better BELIEVE that I took an immediate shower once I got into my very luxe room. The fun thing about European showers is that there is only half of a shower "wall" made of glass and the rest is open, creating a feeling of awkwardness as I'm used to much more encasement than that. Did I mention that I'm sleeping in a king-sized bed?! I honestly feel so spoiled being in this room with it being all to myself. My three hour nap was necessary in order to survive that day, and it proved successful before I was retrieved by Margaret to visit the office.
Introductions were quaint and brief, and the team is comfortably small. Right away, I met Margaret (spelling soon to be found out), and she is the main administrator of the company. Anything that goes on, Margaret knows about, and she has been one of the biggest helps with all of my accommodations. Because of her, I now can get anywhere and everywhere with the tap of a card. But I won't lie to you, I have a horrible time remembering names not because I'm rude, but because my short-term memory is absolute rubbish. Margaret and I discussed how I would be getting to London and where I would hopefully be staying next week.
Keeping it short, Margaret took me back to the hotel where I would finally have my first meal of the day because, you know, my stomach hates me. But bless, my first dinner was absolutely delicious, compliments to the chef, most definitely! The first course of the meal started with some spicier French bread that complimented the potato leek soup that I thoroughly enjoyed. Just to note, the servers at Tom's Table are so attentive and on top of their serving game. When the seared salmon came out, I thought I was going to burst into tears because I have never seen salmon cooked so beautifully. It was presented on grilled leeks, a beet pureé, and served with steamed carrots, butternut squash, and fingerling potatoes. To say the least, I was fully satisfied by the time I was finished eating. Ashamed of myself for not being able to finish the delightful salmon, I left the money for my bill. ALSO, Europe in general is not big on having to tip or feeling obliged to as servers here are paid very fairly (if someone tips, it's normally 5-10%). However, I still believe in leaving at least 15-20% anyway because again, my server was absolutely fantastic and the server in me couldn't not tip.
Despite not being able to sleep until 4:00am Ireland time, I was happy to be able to lay in such a warm and comfortable bed to myself. If only jet lag wasn't such a sleep-haunting bitch...
So let's be honest here... every trip or big event in my life will start out as a cakewalk, incur an accident or two, and then smooth sailing after the initial wave of anxiety subsides. On our way to O'Hare on Monday night (maybe an hour away from the airport), my sister's car was side-swept by an asshole driver who sped off as the accident occurred. The officers were quick to respond, but it still took up time that I would've had with my family at the airport. Thankfully, we made it just in time to be able to exchange very quick hugs, kisses, and pleasantries (and a glimpse of my mother's tears) before I had to run off to an overly congested TSA.
Cue waiting thirty minutes to even get my passport approved, the Aer Lingus representative appeared to help rush me through security. Once at the metal detector, I thought it was a good idea to take my sweater off to avoid my zipper causing a commotion. However, I was the one to truly start a riot as I pulled off both my sweater AND shirt. Pretty sure I heard shrieks and guffaws, but what's an American to do when she's in a time crunch and avoiding a detector going off? I probably would've been fine, but you know, it makes for a richer story. Now, picture this: fully-clothed, pillow and coat in my arms, cross-body purse swinging, a carry-on rolling on my left side, all while running in what seemed to be heavy as hell rain boots on the way to my gate. Bless those flight attendants though because the look on their faces screamed "run the f*ck faster, please," as I rolled up in my out-of-breath fashion. You would think I'd be in shape by now, but as soon as I found my seat in the cabin, I whipped out my inhaler faster than you can say "help". In reality, I don't particularly enjoy eating meals provided by the airline, but I thought I would at least try out the delicious looking Chicken Provençal (which I would regret once I woke up). Realistically, one would think that a ten-hour flight would be miserable; however, I fell asleep to two-part episode of season 4 of "Brooklyn Nine-Nine" and slept solidly for 8 of the 10 hours. As soon as I woke; however, that chicken decided that it no longer wanted to sit peacefully within my digestive system and made itself known as I hugged the tiny bathtub within the plane. Once at ease, the landing wasn't so awful and my ears barely popped (and thank GOD, or I would've been whining harder about that than being dehydrated).
April 17, 2018
The real surprise would begin as soon as I walked up to customs, having only emails proving why I would be entering the country. Thrown into immediate anxiety, my tics began; I was twitching, dry-heaving, and making my cat-like noises as I waited to be cleared through. To be honest, I was absolutely terrified, and this poor customs officer tried to comfort me as he took note of my issues and listened to me struggle through my explanation of why I was coming into Ireland. After twenty minutes of standing there and trying to figure things out, another customs officer appeared to try and clarify more of my current situation while the original officer kindly brought me water to try and calm my nerves. Another ten minutes and I'm escorted to sit on the unauthorized visitors bench (which I waited another twenty/thirty minutes just to hear the initial options). The two first options suggested that I be rejected from the country and be sent back to the states while the third option entailed that I would buy my own ticket home, be rejected, and then have a negative mark on my passport. At this point, I'm tearing up and becoming more angry at my own ignorance thinking that all of my dreams could come true if I could just get to baggage. I sat there continuing to wipe my tears away as more travelers walked through customs, unable to have my phone or laptop out to call family during this time of distress. . ANOTHER twenty minutes later, the customs officers were able to find my new boss on the other side of the wall and to work out a deal. I would not have to fly all the way back to the states, but instead a short trip to London and back as long as I had the contract stating that I would be training for the company in Ireland.
Seeing how distraught I had become, the second customs officer cracked a joke saying how much better this experience would have gone better if I had been able to bring my emotional service dog with me. I nodded it off saying that I knew that ESAs aren't as prevalent in Ireland and that my dog would've struggled on the flight. He shook his head and assured me that he (the country) took this very seriously. He shared that his friend's younger son is actually on spectrum and has an emotional service dog to aid him as well. Now, I didn't expect anyone to even be close to understanding the issues that I experience, but that officer made it clear that mental health is extremely important to the Irish, and they were more than willing to try to accommodate to my mental health as I was in panic mode. I am EXTREMELY thankful for the kindness of these officers during this small crisis.
Finally, with sweet relief, I made it to my boss Gerry on the other side of the baggage claim and was greeted with a warm hug of reassurance. He, himself, had no idea that I had needed any paperwork to enter Ireland. BUT! I made it out of the airport alive without being deported. Other than Laura Beth Scheffer, I had never met anyone else who was almost or basically deported upon arrival into another country. With all of that said, my new boss brought me to my temporary home, the Moran Red Cow Hotel. After a quick coffee and water meeting to discuss the day's plans, Gerry was nice enough to let me settle in and refresh for a few hours before being introduced to my new co-workers. You better BELIEVE that I took an immediate shower once I got into my very luxe room. The fun thing about European showers is that there is only half of a shower "wall" made of glass and the rest is open, creating a feeling of awkwardness as I'm used to much more encasement than that. Did I mention that I'm sleeping in a king-sized bed?! I honestly feel so spoiled being in this room with it being all to myself. My three hour nap was necessary in order to survive that day, and it proved successful before I was retrieved by Margaret to visit the office.
Introductions were quaint and brief, and the team is comfortably small. Right away, I met Margaret (spelling soon to be found out), and she is the main administrator of the company. Anything that goes on, Margaret knows about, and she has been one of the biggest helps with all of my accommodations. Because of her, I now can get anywhere and everywhere with the tap of a card. But I won't lie to you, I have a horrible time remembering names not because I'm rude, but because my short-term memory is absolute rubbish. Margaret and I discussed how I would be getting to London and where I would hopefully be staying next week.
Keeping it short, Margaret took me back to the hotel where I would finally have my first meal of the day because, you know, my stomach hates me. But bless, my first dinner was absolutely delicious, compliments to the chef, most definitely! The first course of the meal started with some spicier French bread that complimented the potato leek soup that I thoroughly enjoyed. Just to note, the servers at Tom's Table are so attentive and on top of their serving game. When the seared salmon came out, I thought I was going to burst into tears because I have never seen salmon cooked so beautifully. It was presented on grilled leeks, a beet pureé, and served with steamed carrots, butternut squash, and fingerling potatoes. To say the least, I was fully satisfied by the time I was finished eating. Ashamed of myself for not being able to finish the delightful salmon, I left the money for my bill. ALSO, Europe in general is not big on having to tip or feeling obliged to as servers here are paid very fairly (if someone tips, it's normally 5-10%). However, I still believe in leaving at least 15-20% anyway because again, my server was absolutely fantastic and the server in me couldn't not tip.
Despite not being able to sleep until 4:00am Ireland time, I was happy to be able to lay in such a warm and comfortable bed to myself. If only jet lag wasn't such a sleep-haunting bitch...
Comments
Post a Comment