- My eyes closed to a dull squint, my
shoulders fell forward, my arms dropped to my
knees. I couldn’t believe it, I thought to myself
‘First of all, what the hell is an INS form, and--
underground entrance?’ I was now only five people
away from the front doors, this was just bloody per-
fect. O.K., gather yourself, I know that I am defi-
nitely here for immigration purposes and that I
might as well start looking for the "underground
entrance”. So I hopped the last fence, and walked
the walk of shame past the two and a half hours wait
worth of a crowd and started for Worth St. After
hopping some bushes and walking through the
parking lot, scaling another fence, I finally see the
underground parking lot that leads to the "under-
ground entrance". The line up isn’t too bad, about
fifteen people. Exactly seventeen minutes go by,
and I start to time more accurately because I realize
this might make a story. I find myself at the foot of
the three big guards operating the metal detectors.
Without hesitating I start to empty my pockets into
the little green basket just like the five people I
watched ahead of me. I start with my Orwell novel.
As soon as the book hits the basket it hits me as to
how ironic it is to read this kind of literature at the
steps of one of the more powerful institutions in the
most powerful country in the world. As if on cue of
this the guard asks "Do you have an appointment?"
Which throws me a bit considering he hadn’t asked
anyone else this that I noticed. "Uh......yeah."
"Well lets see it sir, I haven’t got all day." (No New
Yorker has all day I have found since being here) I
go through my bag and produce the document
given to me by the border immigration telling me

26 Federal Plaza (cont'd)

what address to go to.
He grabs it and just as
quickly gives it back to
me. "This is nothing."
Of course the philo-
sophical connotations
of this statement are
staggering and would
indeed warrant all day
to correctly theorize the
validity of. I just gulp
loudly. He senses my
fear and Canadian pas-
sivity all at once and
tells me to enter at the
front, where I just wait-
ed for two and a half
hours. Now I feel beat-
en, I am nothing.

With a stroke
of luck I find the per-
son who stood behind
me for two and a half
hours has not yet been admitted into the front
entrance and so with. my fingers crossed I kind of
motion for her to let me in as I hop the fence in
front of the door. Within three minutes I am in the
front door. Thank bloody Christ I didn’t have to go
to the back of the line. I don’t think I would, I
would have just put this whole thing off. This time
I don’t jinx myself at the metal detector by plopping
Orwell into the tray for everyone to see and just
leave it buried in my back pocket. I empty out my
change, keys, put down my bag on the conveyor belt
and step through the detector - beeeeeeeeeeeeeep-
- damn belt, shouldn’t have worn it today. "Lift up
your shirt" comes the gruff voice. So I do and sure
enough it catches on the folded pages of the novel
and "plop" on the floor goes Orwell. Oh well, he let
me go despite me being a raving socialist. But go
where? There is no directory to be found, and all I
see in front of me is banks of rows of elevators. I ask
around and eventually all I get out of anyone is that
information is on the third floor, and judging from
her generic tone I suspect it is the popular answer
to any query and therefore--

Line up. Now there is about 100 people
in this cramped room in a line that twists wildly
from one end to the next, the children are frantic
from boredom and the temperature is stifling hot. I
suddenly have a headache. I know why I’m here, all
I need is to know which room to go to. Just one
simple question. As I ponder this seemingly dread-
ful dilemma the security guard pushes me in the
direction of the back of the line. "Get clear of the
doorway sir. Don’t clog my doorway." So with that
all too kind and decisive nudge, the passive

Canadian goes to the back of the line and back
again to Orwell (quoting Ecclesiastes directly).

I returned and saw under the sun, that
the race is not to the swift, nor the battle
to the strong, neither yet bread to the
wise, nor yet riches to men of
understanding, nor yet favour to men of
skill; but time and chance happeneth to
them all.

An hour goes by, not like an hour mind
you that you could compare to the watching of two
American sitcoms, but more like a feature length
Canadian documentary on the snowy white owl
what with the crying babies, the stifling air, and the
overwhelming sense of despair. I finally see the
information desk and the ladies therein. Wow do
they look strung out. For the first time all day I
actually take time to consider the employees at 26
Federal Plaza, what of their lives, day in and day out
through the metal detectors and parking lots and
the endless onslaught of people bitching and moan-
ing about citizenship's and asylums and status? But
just then my thoughts are interrupted -- "Next
please! I haven’t got all day." I collectively
approach the woman as she starts to apply even
pressure on both of her temples. "Hi there, I am a
Canadian student on a temporary visa studying
here in the city, I wish to extend my visa with an F-
1 stamp as I have just received my proof of financial
holdings which allows me to obtain the-" "Room I -
304. Next please!" Well, only three hours and I
learned which room to go to, how effective. I won-
der if everyone here is being handled in much the
same fashion. I head for I - 304, just down the hall,
and what do you know? A line up. This one isn’t as
bad, only twenty people and no kids to be seen, oh
wait, they’re they all are, jumping up and down and
shrieking to a feverish pitch in the corner.

My whole state of being has settled into a
rhythmic dull throb now, no more panic, just pain.
I don’t bother with Orwell, I just stare into the flu-
orescent lights and drool. Twenty four minutes go
by along with some heated concerns of my fellow
earthlings as to their immigration status in the
United States and I am face to face with the woman
who has the answers. I politely explain my situation
and she answers me with this look of utter vacancy.
When I ask if she knows what I am to do she
mechanically hands me a form on how to change
my name legally and the names of my children. I
start to understand why everyone was getting so
frustrated and start to get a little edgy myself. I
repeat my situation through clenched teeth and
make it quite clear that the woman at information
must have sent me here for some reason even if it

One night she decided that if
s+ ws fing to be a ballet dancer
T weeded te fnew pote abou

music - She started teaching me
the diflerence befieen a polka and
a walte at ane o clock in the

agi Eventually she decided that
ZL weeded fo chdp. She went to her

room. overheard het contetsing with
het pets. She had a catynamed pebbie,

ant oa dogs named tet.

44 influx: Magazine April 1999

‘After a week Ms. Det t had
Ap 4° to Australia to adjvdicate bal let.
exams there. She was worried abeot not

being able te smoke during the long

Slight.

ang det. Set liked his
with (melted chedder cheese.

She left us tecipes for Nebbre

dinnet taped

Ms. Pratt survned her flight

She called while she WAS AWAY ,

mostly Nee: gee ee
Jud saied in’ val she got
I back.

My eyes closed to a dull squint, my
shooldess fell former, ry arms dropped 10 sty
inces. I couldnt believe i, I thought to myelf
rst of ally what the hell an INS form, and
underground entrance” Iwas nse ony five people
sveay from the ront doors, his was just Bloody per-
fect OK, gather yourself, know that lam det
nitely here for immigration purposes and th
right ay well start looking forthe “undergoun
entrance", So I hopped the lst fence, and waked
‘he wal of shame past the two and abalfhours wait
‘worth of a crowd and started for Worth St. After
hopping some bushes and walking throvgh the
parking lot, scaling another fence, TSnally se the
Underground parking lot that leads to the "unde
‘round entrance”. The line up st too Bad about
fieen people. Exactly seventeen minutes go by,
and start ime more accurately Because I realize
this might make a story. 1 ind myself tthe foot of|
the three big guards operating the metal detectors
‘Without hestatng I strt vo empty my pockets nto
the litle green basket jut like the Ste people I
‘watched ahead of me, Tsar with my Orwell nove
1s soon asthe book hits the beske tits me a 0
‘how ironic to read this kindof iterate atthe
steps of one ofthe more powerful nsttion inthe
‘most powerfl country in the world. As fon cue of|
this the guard asks "Do you have an appointment”
‘Which throws me abi considering he hadn't asked
anyone else this that T noticed. "Un... yeah”
Well ts eet si, Than’ gral day.” (No New
Yorker ha ll day have found since being here)
0 through my bag and produce the document

26 Federal Plaza (cont'd)

what address to g0 10,
He grabs and jst at
auicly gies i back to
the. “This nothing”
OF course the phil
tophical_connotations
Staggering and. would
to correctly theorize the
‘ality of Tse gulp
loudly, “He senses my
fear and Canadian pas-
sivgy all at once and
tells me o enter atthe
font, where just wait
for 90 and a hal
hous, Now I fel beat
en, Tam nothing

‘With stroke
of luck Ind the per
on who stood behind
ime for two and a half
hours har not yet been admitted into the front
entrance and so with my fingers crossed Ukind of
motion for ber to let me in an hop the fence in
{font ofthe door. Within ttce minites Iam inthe
ffont door. Thank bloody Christ I didn't have ro g0
to the back ofthe line. don’ think T would, I
‘would have jst put this whole thing off: Tis time
ont ix mela the metal detector by plopping.
‘Onell into the tay for everyone to see and just
leave ie buried in my back pocket. Tempey ou my
change, keys, pt down my bag on the conveyor bet
land step through the detector -beceeeeceeeeeep-
“crn bel, shoulda have worn it today. "Lit up
your shire comes the gruff ice. Sot do and sure
‘enough it catches on the folded pags of the novel
tnd "plop" on te Noor goes Orwell. Oh well let
‘me go despite me being a raving socialist. But go
where? There io dizectory to be found, and all
ce in font of me ir banks of rows of elevators, Tate
‘round and eventual alll get out of anyone i that
{formation ison the third foo, and judging from
her generic tone T suspect it the popular answer
to any query and therfore

Line up. Now there i about 100 people
{inthis camped room ina line that twists Wily
fom one end to the next, the ehldren are frantic
‘fom boredom and the temperature is sing hot. 1
seddenly have a headache. Thaw why Taher, all
Trneed to know which room to go to. Just one
simple question. ASI ponder this seemingly dread
fal dilemma the security guard pushes mein the
direction ofthe back ofthe line. "Get clear ofthe
‘doorways. Doe clog my doorway.” So with that
fl too Kind and decisive modge, the passive

Canadian goes 10 the back of the ine and back
gun to Onell (quoting Eecesates direct),

[retuned and sw under the su, that
the race i nt tothe si, nor the bate
to the song, neither yet bread tthe
tte, nor yet riches to men of
Understanding, nor yt favour to mn
them al

An hour goes by, not ke an hour mind
you that you could compar othe watching of 40
Trseicen sitcons bat tore like a farae length
(Canadian documentary on the snowy white om
what wi the eryng babies, the sting ait and the
‘overwhelming sense of despai. 1 finaly ace the
Information desk and the ladies therein, Ww do
they look strung out. For the frst time all day T
factually take time to consider the employees at 26
Federal Plaza, what of ver lives, day in and day ou
rough the metal detectors and parking lot and
{he endless onslaught of people bitching and moa
tng about eitzenship's an avums and wars? But
just then my thoughts are interruped ~ "Nest
please! haven't got all day." T collectively
Spproach the woman as she sats to apply even
presure on both of her temples. "Hi there, Fam a
‘Canadian stodent on» temporary visa sedying
Ihre in the city wish to extend ny visa with an F
1 stamp a Thave jst received my peo of Gnancil
holdings which allows me to obtain the" "Room I
304. Next please” Wel, only three hours and I
eared which oom tg t, how effective. Ton
der if everyone here is being handled in uch the
‘same fashion. Thead for ~30, jst down the hall,
tnd what do you know? A lineup. This one isn't as
‘ad, only twenty people and ao kid 0 be sen, ok
swat theyre they al ars, jmping up and down and
Shrcking oa feverish pitch inthe cornet

My whole stat of being has seed ato @
‘hythmic dull throb now, ao more panic, ust pain,
T don't oder with Orel ust stare into the Ds
‘resent lights and drool. Twenty four minstes go
‘by alongwith some heated concern of my fellow
carting, a 10. their immigration sats in the
United States and Tam face to face withthe woman
whotas the answer. I politely explain my situation
nd she answers me with thi ook of ute canes
‘When Task if she knows what I am to do she
mechanically hands me form on how to change
‘my name legally andthe names of my etuldren. I
start to understand why everyone was geting so
fronted and start to get ite edgy melt I
repeat my situation through clenched teeth and
mst have sent me here fr some reason even it

ing 4+ be a bale
frou mare abso?
sic. She shared

esching He

fre difereme bebseen 0 pla. and

aay:
1 needed te dlp

44

She bad « cal amed

ceetheard her catesing with

‘ belle,
Jet

influx* Magazine April 1999

‘Ale a. week Ms. Pratt hed
to addict ballet

te ge fe clea

cent there, She was werried abe

feng able te ancke ding the bag
igh.” she ett us recipes fr Dele

and det

his diner taped

wilh teed caller cheese
Ms Pratt sured

Joby wna in unt she

Teck