Sep 2005
I love it when a plan comes together
Sep/26/05 13:56 |
Permalink
It started out
according to plan. The package was ready at 7:54
(according to their online tracking system). Cliff
ditched his car, zipped down to NYC… and our
cell phone gave up the ghost. Since I hadn’t
heard from him, I assumed we were a go and packed our
bags. He went to the consulate and got in line, in
time that we just might, though probably wouldn't, it
seemed, get the visa in time to make it all
work… only to have them announce that their
computers were down and it would be an hour’s
delay to process anyone. He called his mom’s
cell phone and left a message to cancel our flight.
Meanwhile, in DC, I was still packing and Cliff’s mom arrived to take us to the airport. She had forgotten her cell phone and borrowed one from a student. (Thanks, student!) So we never got the call to cancel our flight. We loaded up the car. Cliff called from the consulate to check in, and when I said we hadn’t cancelled, asked us to find out just how late we could be in getting on the plane. They told us if we got there by 2, they would get us on the plane. Cliff could make it on the 1:00 shuttle from LaGuardia, which was due to arrive at 2:04; maybe they would bend a bit and let us go. We all headed to the airport, grabbed a skycap, Sam (thanks, Sam!), and set up camp in the airport. Meanwhile, the best news all day greeted us: our flight was delayed at least a half-hour. Cliff managed to get on the shuttle; they made good time, landed early… and spent 20 minutes on the runway because there were no available gates. He finally got off the plane at 2:00, ran across the airport to meet us, and we checked in successfully. Yeah, us!
Now the funny (well, it’s funny now) part here is that it had rained the entire day in Boston, and all of American’s flights were backed up for miles because of it. Our flight got later and later, and by the time we took off at 7:00 we had missed our 7:00 connection, and ended up nearly running through JFK to the international terminal to catch the 9:30, which involved scurrying around the airport like rats looking for cheese, because there were no actual signs indicating the way to the international terminal, and the route to get there involved nearly leaving the airport entirely, passing the baggage pickup, and ended up funneling the passengers into two lines against a wall with no chairs or tables, asking us to juggle all of our luggage while removing our laptops from our bags and taking off shoes. Thanks, JFK—not. Of course, the 9:30 to Heathrow had by this time also been delayed, and sat on the runway until an 11:00 actual takeoff. Then, when we landed in Heathrow in the morning, the gates were (again) completely full and we had another hour to wait as they shuttled all 400+ passengers to the terminal in one 30-passenger bus going back and forth. But by golly we were on British soil and what the heck, we’re here now.
And on the bottom of the credit-card receipt Cliff got from the British Consulate after paying the final round of $500 in visa application fees-- a cheery "Thank you, Please come again!"
Meanwhile, in DC, I was still packing and Cliff’s mom arrived to take us to the airport. She had forgotten her cell phone and borrowed one from a student. (Thanks, student!) So we never got the call to cancel our flight. We loaded up the car. Cliff called from the consulate to check in, and when I said we hadn’t cancelled, asked us to find out just how late we could be in getting on the plane. They told us if we got there by 2, they would get us on the plane. Cliff could make it on the 1:00 shuttle from LaGuardia, which was due to arrive at 2:04; maybe they would bend a bit and let us go. We all headed to the airport, grabbed a skycap, Sam (thanks, Sam!), and set up camp in the airport. Meanwhile, the best news all day greeted us: our flight was delayed at least a half-hour. Cliff managed to get on the shuttle; they made good time, landed early… and spent 20 minutes on the runway because there were no available gates. He finally got off the plane at 2:00, ran across the airport to meet us, and we checked in successfully. Yeah, us!
Now the funny (well, it’s funny now) part here is that it had rained the entire day in Boston, and all of American’s flights were backed up for miles because of it. Our flight got later and later, and by the time we took off at 7:00 we had missed our 7:00 connection, and ended up nearly running through JFK to the international terminal to catch the 9:30, which involved scurrying around the airport like rats looking for cheese, because there were no actual signs indicating the way to the international terminal, and the route to get there involved nearly leaving the airport entirely, passing the baggage pickup, and ended up funneling the passengers into two lines against a wall with no chairs or tables, asking us to juggle all of our luggage while removing our laptops from our bags and taking off shoes. Thanks, JFK—not. Of course, the 9:30 to Heathrow had by this time also been delayed, and sat on the runway until an 11:00 actual takeoff. Then, when we landed in Heathrow in the morning, the gates were (again) completely full and we had another hour to wait as they shuttled all 400+ passengers to the terminal in one 30-passenger bus going back and forth. But by golly we were on British soil and what the heck, we’re here now.
And on the bottom of the credit-card receipt Cliff got from the British Consulate after paying the final round of $500 in visa application fees-- a cheery "Thank you, Please come again!"
Can you believe it? Still trying...
Sep/26/05 13:55 |
Permalink
Now
remember where I said that we applied for our visas
electronically? Well, apparently this is a major
exception and the Information Revolution has
completely passed by the UK. The work permit, issued
by a government office in London, had to be
express-mailed to the personnel office in Swansea,
who in turn had to express-mail the paper document to
Cliff. Forget fax, forget e-mail, forget the
possibility of simply accepting the number of the
permit. One branch of the British government
wouldn’t accept any kind of document
transmission from another branch of the British
government, Cliff had to have the actual piece of
paper in his hands when he re-applied in person in
the consulate in New York. (And he couldn't apply for
a visa at the Embassy in DC- they don't do visas.) We
missed the call from Swansea Friday morning on our
cell phone, asking for a mailing address to mail our
work permit, so we didn’t get through to them
in time, and mailing our work permit had to wait
until Monday. The plan on Monday was to mail the work
permit to his office at West Point, where Cliff would
drive back Wednesday (there being no actual overnight
service available), pick it up, leave his car at our
house, take the train into NYC, obtain his visa, and
take the train back to DC in time to fly the next
day.
As you can probably guess by now, that wasn’t gonna happen. First, the consulate called to inform us that they only deal with the public before 11:30 a.m., impossible for Cliff, because there was no way an express package would make it in time for him to pick it up and still get into the city. So Cliff arranged an appointment at the Consulate for Thursday morning- the day we were due to fly. American Airlines wouldn't let him join the flight in NYC (remember, it was supposed to go from DC to NYC to London), so that meant he'd have to add another flight from NYC to DC, where he would meet us and join us for the flight back to NYC, where we'd then catch the connection to Heathrow. That added expense and cut down on the margin of error, but it seemed like it ought to work. But while driving up to New York on Wednesday to pick up the work permit, Cliff got a cell phone call from Swansea, where the personnel office had heard from DHL (i.e. Airborne Express) that there had been a “delay,” and the permit couldn’t be delivered until Thursday noon. The day we were supposed to fly, too late to get a visa in time. I got on the phone trying to track the package; they told me it had departed JFK but they had no information after that. I was bewildered; it takes less than 2 hours to drive from JFK to the DHL depot in Newburgh NY, how could they not have located it after 5 hours? What no one had explained was that DHL lands its packages in JFK and then ships them to Ohio, from whence they are sent back to NY for delivery. After a few more phone calls we got them to assure us that it should arrive at Newburgh that evening, and that Cliff could pick it up at the distribution center then. They'd call as soon as it was sorted. Well, that evening they called all right-- to say that the last of the new shipment had been sorted and it wasn't there. More calls, with different answers from DHL each time. Finally, we were told might arrive in Newburgh the next morning, and Cliff might be able to pick it up at Newburgh at 8:00.
So the new plan called for more planning, luck and timing than any bank heist in the movies. Cliff was to pick up the package in Newburgh at 8:00, drive across the Beacon bridge, park at the Beacon train station and travel down into NYC, run to the consulate, speed through the visa application process, take a cab to LaGuardia airport, catch the 12:00 shuttle to DC, meet us at National Airport in DC with our travel documents, catch our 3:00 flight and the three of us would fly back to New York and proceed on to London. (Our friend John Stapleton kindly agreed to pick up the car at the station for us. Thanks, John!)
As you can probably guess by now, that wasn’t gonna happen. First, the consulate called to inform us that they only deal with the public before 11:30 a.m., impossible for Cliff, because there was no way an express package would make it in time for him to pick it up and still get into the city. So Cliff arranged an appointment at the Consulate for Thursday morning- the day we were due to fly. American Airlines wouldn't let him join the flight in NYC (remember, it was supposed to go from DC to NYC to London), so that meant he'd have to add another flight from NYC to DC, where he would meet us and join us for the flight back to NYC, where we'd then catch the connection to Heathrow. That added expense and cut down on the margin of error, but it seemed like it ought to work. But while driving up to New York on Wednesday to pick up the work permit, Cliff got a cell phone call from Swansea, where the personnel office had heard from DHL (i.e. Airborne Express) that there had been a “delay,” and the permit couldn’t be delivered until Thursday noon. The day we were supposed to fly, too late to get a visa in time. I got on the phone trying to track the package; they told me it had departed JFK but they had no information after that. I was bewildered; it takes less than 2 hours to drive from JFK to the DHL depot in Newburgh NY, how could they not have located it after 5 hours? What no one had explained was that DHL lands its packages in JFK and then ships them to Ohio, from whence they are sent back to NY for delivery. After a few more phone calls we got them to assure us that it should arrive at Newburgh that evening, and that Cliff could pick it up at the distribution center then. They'd call as soon as it was sorted. Well, that evening they called all right-- to say that the last of the new shipment had been sorted and it wasn't there. More calls, with different answers from DHL each time. Finally, we were told might arrive in Newburgh the next morning, and Cliff might be able to pick it up at Newburgh at 8:00.
So the new plan called for more planning, luck and timing than any bank heist in the movies. Cliff was to pick up the package in Newburgh at 8:00, drive across the Beacon bridge, park at the Beacon train station and travel down into NYC, run to the consulate, speed through the visa application process, take a cab to LaGuardia airport, catch the 12:00 shuttle to DC, meet us at National Airport in DC with our travel documents, catch our 3:00 flight and the three of us would fly back to New York and proceed on to London. (Our friend John Stapleton kindly agreed to pick up the car at the station for us. Thanks, John!)
The Reid-Rogers family continues trying to leave the
country
Sep/26/05 13:53 |
Permalink
Well,
Cliff had made a back-up appointment to go in to the
Consulate, just in case something went wrong. He had
made it for the earliest possible date-- around three
weeks from when it was made, which was just a day
before we were supposed to fly. So he went in, armed
with all of our documents, new ID photos, and copies
of his correspondence with the work permits office,
instructing him that we had to apply for an Academic
Visitor visa. The Consulate representatives were
sympathetic, but told him that it just wasn’t
their fault that the work-permits office had given us
the wrong advice, doggone it, and we did indeed have
to get a work permit and re-apply.
Thus began the first scramble. Our tenant very kindly offered to let us stay in the house a few more days, our future landlords were notified, and we set about packing up the house while the University of Swansea set the wheels in motion for a work permit. While this might seem at first glance to be a gift of a few extra days to prepare, we were in fact a week behind because Cliff had spent whole days preparing his appeal on the visa issue, then lost hours on the phone arranging a cancellation of our plane tickets and figuring out what we would do next. And instead of just packing for the trip to Swansea, we also had to pack for the indefinite stay in the US waiting for the visas, which involved lots of warm-weather things we had no intention of bringing over with us. So we endeavored to get the house in order, pack, and nudge along the visa/work permit process.
We finally headed out on Sunday night, and drove down to Stone Harbor (New Jersey). Cliff’s mom had offered to put us up, and when she found that her houses were full, she found us a condo to stay in for that week. Thanks, Jacqueline! So we had a mini-vacation in Stone Harbor, figuring a little beach time wouldn’t hurt while we waited for the wheels to turn. Then on Thursday we headed down to Washington, DC, for the wedding of good friends of ours, Tom and Christiane Rosenborg. They kindly welcomed us last-minute guests, and we had a wonderful time, now as houseguests of Tom (Sr.) and Nancy Rosenborg, where Hannah had a wonderful week being spoiled. We followed the work-permit process as best we could via e-mail and cell phone. When it looked like we would have the work permit the following Tuesday, we booked airplane tickets for Thursday Sept. 15th. Since we were now in Washington, DC, the direct flight out of JFK would have been problematic, so we booked Washington – JFK – Heathrow, with (luckily) an eventual return flight straight into JFK.
Thus began the first scramble. Our tenant very kindly offered to let us stay in the house a few more days, our future landlords were notified, and we set about packing up the house while the University of Swansea set the wheels in motion for a work permit. While this might seem at first glance to be a gift of a few extra days to prepare, we were in fact a week behind because Cliff had spent whole days preparing his appeal on the visa issue, then lost hours on the phone arranging a cancellation of our plane tickets and figuring out what we would do next. And instead of just packing for the trip to Swansea, we also had to pack for the indefinite stay in the US waiting for the visas, which involved lots of warm-weather things we had no intention of bringing over with us. So we endeavored to get the house in order, pack, and nudge along the visa/work permit process.
We finally headed out on Sunday night, and drove down to Stone Harbor (New Jersey). Cliff’s mom had offered to put us up, and when she found that her houses were full, she found us a condo to stay in for that week. Thanks, Jacqueline! So we had a mini-vacation in Stone Harbor, figuring a little beach time wouldn’t hurt while we waited for the wheels to turn. Then on Thursday we headed down to Washington, DC, for the wedding of good friends of ours, Tom and Christiane Rosenborg. They kindly welcomed us last-minute guests, and we had a wonderful time, now as houseguests of Tom (Sr.) and Nancy Rosenborg, where Hannah had a wonderful week being spoiled. We followed the work-permit process as best we could via e-mail and cell phone. When it looked like we would have the work permit the following Tuesday, we booked airplane tickets for Thursday Sept. 15th. Since we were now in Washington, DC, the direct flight out of JFK would have been problematic, so we booked Washington – JFK – Heathrow, with (luckily) an eventual return flight straight into JFK.
The Reid-Rogers family tries to leave the country
Sep/26/05 13:51 |
Permalink
So
here begins our story…
Back in April, when we learned we would be staying in Swansea, Wales, in the fall, Cliff began researching British visas. He checked out the UK immigration web pages, which turned out to be utterly confusing and sometimes self-contradictory—the regulations sometimes having been changed without corresponding updates on the information being given out, neither to the affected offices or their webmasters. We could call the consulate, but the only number they provide is that of an outsourced customer-service company, and they were charging $2.10 a minute for inquiries. Cliff tried e-mailing the consulate, using the address from their web site; it bounced back: “no such address exists,” further reinforcing our faith in the British bureaucracy. Cliff e-mailed the only office he could find contact info for: the Work Permits Office. They told him he had to apply for an "Academic Visitor” visa, which didn’t require a work permit. So Cliff felt pretty confident the whole visa thing would be pretty easy to manage. We had the whole summer to apply.
Later that spring we applied for Hannah’s passport, and got one exactly two weeks after mailing it in. After talking to some friends, I decided I should renew mine also, since it would expire next summer, and a two-week turnaround seemed very encouraging. I mailed the application to the specified address in Connecticut. They, in turn, immediately tossed it back in the mail to an office in New Hampshire, a step which took nearly a week. They then proceeded to sit on it through the entire month of July. When I phoned for updates, all they could tell me was that it could be processed tomorrow, it could be processed in mid-August. For a simple matter of $85 I could have it in three business days. We waited, because passports and visas were already pretty pricey, and we figured how long could it take to submit my name to a database? Of course, weeks passed and their answer never changed: “We have utterly no idea what the status of your passport is.” Finally we caved and paid the $85, I got my passport, and we could apply for a visa. Cliff assembled the small mound of supporting documents, and we filed electronically for our visas (this becomes significant later.) Meanwhile, Cliff booked our flight tickets for Thursday, Sept. 1, since ticket costs skyrocket if you book too close to departure, and we didn’t want to risk not getting a flight out. Our new tenant was scheduled to move in on Friday, and we were expected by our landlords. Everything was set.
Now consider that we had included telephone number and e-mail address on all three visa applications for our family. When a week passed without a phone call or e-mail notification of any problems, we were fairly confident we would be on a plane that Thursday. Monday morning we greeted the FedEx truck, eagerly opened up our visa documents… and the consulate, saying we had applied for the wrong category of visa and indeed did need a work permit, had rejected our applications. AND kept our six ID photos, which would cost another $15 and half-hour to have re-taken. We were out $500 in application fees plus postage plus photos, and now, as rejected visa applicants, we were forbidden to enter the UK.
Back in April, when we learned we would be staying in Swansea, Wales, in the fall, Cliff began researching British visas. He checked out the UK immigration web pages, which turned out to be utterly confusing and sometimes self-contradictory—the regulations sometimes having been changed without corresponding updates on the information being given out, neither to the affected offices or their webmasters. We could call the consulate, but the only number they provide is that of an outsourced customer-service company, and they were charging $2.10 a minute for inquiries. Cliff tried e-mailing the consulate, using the address from their web site; it bounced back: “no such address exists,” further reinforcing our faith in the British bureaucracy. Cliff e-mailed the only office he could find contact info for: the Work Permits Office. They told him he had to apply for an "Academic Visitor” visa, which didn’t require a work permit. So Cliff felt pretty confident the whole visa thing would be pretty easy to manage. We had the whole summer to apply.
Later that spring we applied for Hannah’s passport, and got one exactly two weeks after mailing it in. After talking to some friends, I decided I should renew mine also, since it would expire next summer, and a two-week turnaround seemed very encouraging. I mailed the application to the specified address in Connecticut. They, in turn, immediately tossed it back in the mail to an office in New Hampshire, a step which took nearly a week. They then proceeded to sit on it through the entire month of July. When I phoned for updates, all they could tell me was that it could be processed tomorrow, it could be processed in mid-August. For a simple matter of $85 I could have it in three business days. We waited, because passports and visas were already pretty pricey, and we figured how long could it take to submit my name to a database? Of course, weeks passed and their answer never changed: “We have utterly no idea what the status of your passport is.” Finally we caved and paid the $85, I got my passport, and we could apply for a visa. Cliff assembled the small mound of supporting documents, and we filed electronically for our visas (this becomes significant later.) Meanwhile, Cliff booked our flight tickets for Thursday, Sept. 1, since ticket costs skyrocket if you book too close to departure, and we didn’t want to risk not getting a flight out. Our new tenant was scheduled to move in on Friday, and we were expected by our landlords. Everything was set.
Now consider that we had included telephone number and e-mail address on all three visa applications for our family. When a week passed without a phone call or e-mail notification of any problems, we were fairly confident we would be on a plane that Thursday. Monday morning we greeted the FedEx truck, eagerly opened up our visa documents… and the consulate, saying we had applied for the wrong category of visa and indeed did need a work permit, had rejected our applications. AND kept our six ID photos, which would cost another $15 and half-hour to have re-taken. We were out $500 in application fees plus postage plus photos, and now, as rejected visa applicants, we were forbidden to enter the UK.