Swollen feet pinched by tight fancy Rajasthani shoes that point at the toes. Been on the plane for 8 hours. This nice old man next to me in the turban keeps giving me candies. They are gross. They taste like flowers or soap. I am alone, chaperoned by airline hostesses. Almost home. Excited to show off my outfit to mommy and daddy. Off the plane now. Waiting in long lines. My feet hurt!
Up to the counter now. Airline hostess left to go back to work because I am, “pretty much out now.” Man asks for my passport and green card. I have my passport, but I don’t know anything about a green card. My face feels hot. My feet hurt. My stomach is buggy. A lady comes over in a suit. “Come with me honey.”
Inside an office. Sitting at a seat. Man behind the desk asks me question:
Him: “What’s the name of your school?”
Me: “Jennie Smith.”
Him: “Where do you live?”
Me: “1955 Lakeview Drive.”
Him: “Where are your parents?”
Me: “Waiting for me out there!”
Tears form but I squeeze them back. I am a good girl. The lady who brought me in says, “Are you sure you don’t have a little plastic card with your picture on it?:
“You mean this one in my pocket? But it’s not green. It’s pink.”
I don’t tell my parents what happened. I am too embarrassed.