This is kind of the "light" side of it, but it shows it can happen to anyone.
I’m So Proud To Be Deported From The USA
Some of you might have come across posts on the UK Subs’ website featuring photos and videos of an unfamiliar line-up performing with Charlie at a Los Angeles punk festival over the weekend. Understandably, you may be wondering, ‘How did that happen?’ Well, here’s the truth: Stefan, Marc, and I were all denied entry into the United States, while Charlie, somehow—perhaps through a Jedi mind trick or, more plausibly, encountering an immigration officer desperate to finish their shift—managed to get through.
After an 11-hour flight, my partner Roz and I arrived at the immigration booth. Roz was waved through without issue, but I was told that something had flagged up, necessitating further questioning. There were two reasons given: first, they claimed I did not have the correct visa for entry; second, there was another unspecified issue that they refused to disclose. I can’t help but wonder whether my frequent, and less than flattering, public comments regarding their president and his administration played a role—or perhaps I’m simply succumbing to paranoia.
What followed was far from pleasant. Two police officers escorted me to another section of LAX, where I found Stefan and Marc already detained in a cold holding pen, along with a group of Colombian, Chinese, and Mexican detainees. My luggage, phone, and passport were confiscated. Hours later, at 4am (having landed at 7pm), I was called for a second interview. The officer conducting it was surprisingly sympathetic—Officer Jones, who, to her credit, even ventured out into the airport to find Roz, updating her on my situation and the enforced return flight I was to take. I’m truly indebted to her for that small act of decency.
Ultimately, while I never expected to be thrown out of America at the age of 67, I find myself somewhat proud of the fact. It seems my relationship with the country is over for the foreseeable future. And perhaps that’s why a certain chorus from track three, side one, of the first Clash album keeps playing in my head.
I’m So Proud To Be Deported From The USA
Some of you might have come across posts on the UK Subs’ website featuring photos and videos of an unfamiliar line-up performing with Charlie at a Los Angeles punk festival over the weekend. Understandably, you may be wondering, ‘How did that happen?’ Well, here’s the truth: Stefan, Marc, and I were all denied entry into the United States, while Charlie, somehow—perhaps through a Jedi mind trick or, more plausibly, encountering an immigration officer desperate to finish their shift—managed to get through.
After an 11-hour flight, my partner Roz and I arrived at the immigration booth. Roz was waved through without issue, but I was told that something had flagged up, necessitating further questioning. There were two reasons given: first, they claimed I did not have the correct visa for entry; second, there was another unspecified issue that they refused to disclose. I can’t help but wonder whether my frequent, and less than flattering, public comments regarding their president and his administration played a role—or perhaps I’m simply succumbing to paranoia.
What followed was far from pleasant. Two police officers escorted me to another section of LAX, where I found Stefan and Marc already detained in a cold holding pen, along with a group of Colombian, Chinese, and Mexican detainees. My luggage, phone, and passport were confiscated. Hours later, at 4am (having landed at 7pm), I was called for a second interview. The officer conducting it was surprisingly sympathetic—Officer Jones, who, to her credit, even ventured out into the airport to find Roz, updating her on my situation and the enforced return flight I was to take. I’m truly indebted to her for that small act of decency.
Ultimately, while I never expected to be thrown out of America at the age of 67, I find myself somewhat proud of the fact. It seems my relationship with the country is over for the foreseeable future. And perhaps that’s why a certain chorus from track three, side one, of the first Clash album keeps playing in my head.
Spoiler track three, side one, of the first Clash album :
