Endure No More

So I wrote that last post a week ago on my way out of town. Last night I came back and was walking through the airport thinking, "Maybe I gave this place a hard time. OK, so there aren't that many shops, it lacks character and the henge-like seating wouldn't look out of place on Salisbury Plain but it's bright, airy and there's a big colourful mural in the arrivals hall. Perhaps I should amend my thoughts."

Having positively zipped through the immigration formalities and with disembarkation to suitcase retrieval being posted in record time there was just the little matter of Customs to go.

I mentioned the U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) pledges previously; I had a closer look at the poster last night:

• We pledge to cordially greet and welcome you to the United States
• We pledge to treat you with courtesy, dignity, and respect
• ...and on it goes; you get the point

So, can someone please explain the following to me? There we all were, travellers and trolleys, queued and funneling our way through one of the three open customs check-points and dutifully handing over our white customs cards. Suddenly, down the side of our queue, rushes a middle-aged lady looking very flustered and accompanied by a uniformed assistant from one of the check-in desks. They reach the front, the lady holding out her card apologising to the rest of us in very broken English.
“Sorry, so sorry! My card?” She says holding out her form for the official.
“You’re not getting in there lady, get to the back of the queue like everyone else,” the official shoots back at her while continuing his retrieval of cards from the rest of us.
“I sorry. My flight! My flight!” With which she pulls out a plane ticket while the assistant she’s with tries to explain that this lady’s flight arrived late and that she’s rushing to make a connection.
“I don’t give a damn. Get to the back,” he continues.

It would have taken a second to let her through – anyone with a modicum of common sense could see that it was an extraordinary circumstance and no one would have begrudged that act of discretion. Instead the torment was stretched out a little more.
“I show you ticket? Here is ticket for flight,” the lady fumbled trying to convince the official who wasn’t even looking at her now. She then started crying.
Finally looking back at her he answers: “Lady, I don’t give a sh*t. Get the f*ck outta here!” Word for word, that was his response in front of her, me, kids and dozens of others.

They can pledge all they like, those CBP promises aren’t worth the paper they’re written on, and having found the Supervisor on duty that night to point this out I then sent him in the direction of the abusive officer…

Make a stand folks.