19th June 11.00pm (ish) UK Time... 18.00 (ish) US Time...
So remind me never to lose the DS-2019 ever again. Not to scare anyone else that has, but it created a major inconvenience in immigration which I really wish I’d avoided... So what’s the story?
Well, following an excellent ‘Disney Cast Member Shout-Out’ from the lovely air stewardess, to which rapturous applause and cheering ensued upon landing, we all left the plane. Immediately upon leaving I spotted a delicious specimen of a man with dark hair, a smouldering expression and a federal government uniform on. However, since I was ‘laying low’ due to the loss of my vital US document I let him pass and joined the queue for immigration. Probably for the best. Anyways, after waiting for what seemed like an eternity but probably only lasted about half an hour, I made it to the front of the queue. I got an old-man immigration officer. I gave him my documents, did my fingerprints etc, but when he asked for the fatal document and I said I couldn’t provide it, he looked at me like I’d told his three-year-old the ‘truth’ about Santa Claus. I told him about the nice American guy at Gatwick, but neither of us had any idea who he was. Damn, I should have taken that guy’s name and job role or something. A complete case of the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing. He said, ‘This is a VERY important document. You now have to enter a room where they will decide whether to let you into the country or not.’ Then he pulled a face like he didn’t hold out much hope, sarcastically muttered, ‘Welcome to America’, tutted and sighed as if exasperated for a little while, took my picture, then escorted me to this little room.
Now, he was obviously a complete douchebag because at this stage I was thinking, ‘Oh my God. I’m being treated like a common criminal, like on Nothing to Declare or Border Patrol (yes, I watch too much LivingTV...) I’m going to be led to this dark room alone and have to answer questions and all my friends will be gone L’ He failed to mention the fact that all of us were going to be led to this ‘Doctors-Waiting-Room’ style place. Fool. He could have put my mind at ease. He obviously wasn’t interested in that. So when I got there, I saw Jasper and Robert (two lovely Dutch guys I’d met on the plane who were also coming to work for Disney) and the others began filing in after me.
The immigration guys had kept our passports and after about twenty minutes they began coming out and announcing names, handing people their passports and sending them on their merry way. Jasper and Robert wished me luck and left. Then Louise and Emma did the same even though they were after me, and that’s when I realised I’d probably be there for a long time. I told them to leave me behind and I’d find my own way to Vista Way, which was very grown-up of me if I say so myself.
This old-black-man meanie immigration officer came out, read my name, so I was like, ‘YESSS I CAN LEAVE!’ Unfortunately, all he said was, ‘Your DS-2019 isn’t here.’ Well, duh, old man. Get with the program. We’ve already been through this. ‘Yes, I lost it... I told your colleague...’ I replied. ‘Lost?’ Seriously, this guy was even more of a moron than I am for losing it in the first place. ‘Yes. Lost.’ ‘Well. That’s interesting.’ Then he walked off. Thanks dude. Thanks a lot.
More names were read out and the people from the Virgin flights that left Gatwick and Manchester at a similar time came and went. Luckily there was still a bunch of them like Craig, Vikki, Emily and her friend Heather who were still around when this hot young immigration office called me out. I couldn’t decide whether to take my bags or not, and in the panic I nearly broke my neck. Well, that’s an exaggeration, but I stumbled a bit in my heels.
Thankfully, this guy was pretty sound. Very professional, but he didn’t seem to be there just to scare me like the others. I explained everything to him and he told me that I was about the 6th person for Disney today who had the same problem and that I wouldn’t be the last. When he took my fingerprints, I’m not even joking, Emma who was miles away at the luggage carousel says she could see my hand shaking. I was so nervous! These nerves were eased a little by this mixed-race-hottie-pants immigration officer walking by and very UNprofessionally looking me up and down before going, ‘DAMN! Dude, are you handpicking them???’ to the guy who was helping me. Taking my tights off on the plane was evidently a good shout. ‘No, man, she’s got a 419 (don’t remember the number but it was something like that) you wanna take it?’ That’s when I realised how much of an inconvenience I was to them, because Sexy Immigration Officer was like, ‘No way... it’s not worth it’ before winking at me and walking off. Great. Now Sexy Immigration Officer thinks I’m an idiot too. Boo.
I was taken into a little office where me and my guy sat in silence for about 40 minutes while he filled out a form. Eventually, he told me I’d have to talk to my program co-ordinator and get them to sort me a new DS-2019 (which he said was a ‘very expensive document to lose’... naturally I nearly had a seizure as I’m tighter with money then an Oriental's... well, let’s just say I’m pretty tight.) Then he grinned, said ‘Welcome to America Gabriella, have a magical day!’ to which I laughed, gushed some thanks then left with my passport. A mere three hours after my plane had landed. BAH. It was all my own fault for losing the document, I know that. But still. BOO.
Now it was time for my next drama of the day. So I come out of this office and was chuffed to see that Vikki and Craig had only just gotten out too. We collected our cases together (I have two massive ones remember) and began to leave with a couple of others. To get from the immigration side of the airport to the area where we needed to catch our shuttle you have to take a monorail, and to get to the monorail, you have to go up an escalator. Well, I was never going to manage that with two suitcases so who was I to turn down the opportunity to meet my bags at the other side? There was some airport people who were like, ‘Ahhh just put your bags on this conveyor belt, then they will arrive at belt B27 when you get off the monorail.’ Like an idiot I believed them. Epic Fail. At least I wasn’t the only one, Vikki and her friend Charlotte did it too, but because they were on a different flight, their suitcases were going to be in Zone A.
Standard. When I got to B27 the carousel was closed. Of course it was. I asked a guy and he was like, ‘Uhhh no, this carousel stopped moving like an hour ago because everyone off the BA flight has gone.’ HELLOOO??? Apparently not! I am living proof of that. So he sent me to a BA office. Which was of course closed. Then I wandered around panicking for a little while with everyone sending me in the wrong directions. By this time I’d lost Vikki, Craig and the others so I was feeling pretty depressed when finally a man from Air Lingus went and found me a BA staff member named Mary Wilson. She was so nice. She took me into the back office and let me use the phone to call Vikki (who didn’t answer... pfttt) and then Disney Arrivals to find where to get the Mears Shuttle from. In the meantime she found my cases for me, then walked me all the way to the shuttle stop, which is where I am now. I bought my ticket ($16 from $31 because I’m a Disney Cast Member eeep!) and I’m now waiting with a little buzzer thing on a bench in the Florida heat! Sucks that I have to get it alone and that I couldn’t get in touch with Vikki, but hopefully I should be there in an hour or so.
What a day from hell. Managed to call dad just now and tell him that everything went swimmingly... I hate to worry him and to be fair what didn’t kill me made me stronger I guess J Hope he didn’t mind a phone call in the middle of the night...
Anyways, I’ll keep you posted guys! Au revior!
gabriellasofia
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