):QUOTE
Woke up to my alarm at 0445 - it didn't make any noise - just buzzed then made a noise a couple minutes after. For a split second I didn't know why I was getting up. Then I remembered.
I was too tired to be nervous initially. I just went on autopilot, going through the motions of getting dressed, cleaning my teeth, packing my toothbrush etc. Mum came in to say goodbye before going back to bed.
Half an hour was just about right to get ready - managed to get everything done in my zombified state without having too much time to hang around and panic.
So at 0515 we set off. I manage to maintain some level of normal conversation with Pete (my mum's OH) before we get to BRS. The drop off lane is still closed so we go to the 10 minute free parking which is miles away. I get out, grab my bags, thank Pete and begin to lug my stuff to the terminal.
Three hours later (or so it seemed), with many stops to rest my poor, sore hands (not a trolley in sight!), I get to the entrance. Joy. My Ryanair check in desk is at the farthest end of the building. Gathering stares from people due to the huffing and puffing noises I emit, not to mention my (again) frequent stops, I make it to the check in desk with my bags but minus a little dignity.
Unfortunately, dignity doesn't weigh anything. Bags do. I was 3.4kg over the 15kg allowed and got sent across to the other side of the building again (sans case this time!) to pay "5.50gbp" (damn the lack of pound sign!) as the check in desk guy told me. When I get there, he (non-smiling, grumpy-looking) girl tells me it's 16.50gbp. It was 5.50gbp per kilo - ouch
. At least they didn't round i t up! They take my money without a smile (despite my best "I'm-totally-knackered-and-$h1tting-myself-bu-trying-to-brighten-your-day attitude) and send me back to the check in guy. He hands me my boarding pass and I was good to go, albeit a little poorer.
I toddle on up to the bar, rethink and head back down to the perfume shop. I just know I am going to stink from festering on planes for 24hrs and that this is going to be added to by panic-sweat about immigration. I hunt for one of my faves (Nina Ricci) and douse myself liberally, trying not to choke on the stench but knowing that I (and whoever has the misfortune to sit next to me) will appreciate it post-immigration.
I head back up to the bar and buy myself a pint. 2.99gbp isn't too bad imho but after I had to pay a small fortune for my case I could only afford one. Probably for the best as it was only 7am... I try and relax - do a couple of puzzles but can't really focus; get my reading book out but can't ge beyond reading three words - it just doesn't seem to make sense.
Eventually I give up, go to the loo and wait to board my plane to DUB. It doesn't take long. I grab a seat next to a window (apparently it's first-come, first-served so I didn' need a seat number) then realise hat I needed the loo. Again. I get up and ask the grmpy-faced flight attendant. Nope. I have to wait until we are in flight.
Luckily it didn't take too long. Almost as soon as the seatbelt light turned off we had an announcement hat we would shortly begin our descent ino DUB! I considered going to the loo again just in case as I didn't want to get caught out but figured we would be there soon. Just as well I only had the one pint!
The plane landed 10 mins early. There was a fanfare on the tannoy blurting out yet more reasons why Ryanair was so great. It was a bit of a rocky landing but at least we were all in one piece. To add to things we could get off at the back of the plane so I didn't have to wait around too much.
Dublin Airport. Oh dear. I confidently sride the 25 miles to baggage claims, wrestle with a trolley (at least they had them!) before a nice Irish lady explained I had to squeeze the handle and bar together for the brakes to come off, then pull hard. I do so and acquire two trolleys. She relieves me of one and I set off again. Just as I arrive at the carousel, I spy my case just about to get to me - result! I was so happy I went through quickly as I only had a 2 1/2 hour layover and I didn't know how long immigration would take.
I adorn my trolley with a variety of bags, cases, paperwork and myself before striding off once again, following the signs for connections. I arrive crestfallen at the foot of a flight of stairs, spot a guy standing at the bottom and ask if there is any way I can get to the top with my trolley. He points me in the direction of a lift and off I go again.
I get to the lift, head on up and start wandering through carpeted (?!) corridors. Maybe I should have gotten suspicious when I didn't see anyone else with a trolley! As I was coming up to a particularly narrow corridor, someone else was walking towards me. I step to the side to let him pass.
The man stops and asks if I am lost. I answer "I don't think so" and explain that I am trying to make a connecting flight on Delta and followed the connections signs (all the time thinking if he was asking whether I was lost, I probably was). After establishing that I needed a boarding pass to be where I was (whoops
) he let me keep my trolley (yay!) and ushered me through one of those sliding frosted glass screen doors, under a tensa-barrier and back to where I belonged. After him telling me where the Delta check in desk was located, I thanked him and navigated the confusing mess of roped areas, queueing areas and barriers.
Lesson #1: When landing in DUB, follow the EXIT signs after picking up your luggage *unless* you have a boarding pass for your connecting flight
I make it to the Delta check in desk. I queue up and security checks are carried out. A cute Irish guy asks where I am staying, why I am visiting (I tell him I am visiting my boyfriend for Valenine's Day), asks for extra ID (I give him my driving license) and wanders off (all of this while in the queue). He comes back, speaks to another guy and wanders off again. Mine seems to be taking longer than anyone else (though I may have just been paranoid) and the panic-sweat begins. Suddenly I am glad of the overly-strong perfume. Eventually he comes back, hands everything over to me including a customs form and an immigration form and tells me to have a good Valentine's Day.
I continue to check in and it's fine - don't even need to pay extra this time which is nice(!). I then get told that I have to go straight to my gate (B34) to go through US Immigration.
*gulp*
I wander down and there is a gigantic queue. The IO setup looks identical to what I am used to in LAX although a couple of IOs appear to smile from time to time which is reassuring. I feel surprisingly calm but as I approach the last turn of the line, I feel that panic-sweat again. Trying to deep-breathe and maintain my composure, I continue on, hoping for a lady IO that I notice crack a smile.
Nope. I get the older looking guy. He looked about 50-55 or so. I walked up with a smile, hoping the panic wouldn't show in my expression and that he wouldn't notice my fumbling, near-shaking hands. He said "Tell me about yourself." I was gobsmacked and asked him what he wanted to know. I couldn't hear him too well behind the glass and so he repeated himself: "Are you travelling by yourself?" Whoops. Now I not only look panicked but at best look stupid and at worst, suspicious already. He smiles. YES! I GOT A HUMAN ONE!!! I breathe a bit of a sigh of relief. Not home dry yet but a least I know he is not one of the "robots". He asks me the usual questions, with perhaps a few exra thrown in for good measure:
Lesson #2: I probably panic-elaborated on some of my answers but the IO was quite nice and friendly. I didn't offer any info he didn't ask for and nothing came up about the K-1 or any home-ties so I didn't mention them. Obviously it is good to have them to hand just in case. On another note, I was not lying (before I get hate-PMs about committing visa-fraud) about not getting married. In the eyes of the law I am not getting married as I will not have a license and will not sign a certificate. As the question wasn't "Are you intending to have a marriage-type ceremony of any description" I felt justified in the answer I gave. Just thought I would clear that up
I can also advise that this situation is not ideal and was not planned - we expected to have our visa by now and planned things prematurely. Don't plan things on the basis that you may be able to have a "non-legal" wedding because the stress just isn't worth it - we just had no other option short of losing thousands of dollars ourselves as well as our family members.
I was kinda shell-shocked about getting through. I punched out a text to send to mum, dad, debz and Jeremy and it wouldn't send. So I found a payphone. I called Pete's mobile. Nothing. Called home. Sounded like a fax machine - wtf?! Call Jeremy's cell - it's like 2.30am PST but at least he answers. The phone is eating through my 3gbp so I hurriedly tell him I got through (which he clarifies about three times - and he wasn't worried?! Ha!) and ask him to text mum, give him debz' number and get him to let her know too.
Now I am over the Atlantic, emotional and a little teary but so happy it is done. In-flight movie about to start. And must say as far as planes go, Delta has comfy seats.
Love you guys
Aly
I was too tired to be nervous initially. I just went on autopilot, going through the motions of getting dressed, cleaning my teeth, packing my toothbrush etc. Mum came in to say goodbye before going back to bed.
Half an hour was just about right to get ready - managed to get everything done in my zombified state without having too much time to hang around and panic.
So at 0515 we set off. I manage to maintain some level of normal conversation with Pete (my mum's OH) before we get to BRS. The drop off lane is still closed so we go to the 10 minute free parking which is miles away. I get out, grab my bags, thank Pete and begin to lug my stuff to the terminal.
Three hours later (or so it seemed), with many stops to rest my poor, sore hands (not a trolley in sight!), I get to the entrance. Joy. My Ryanair check in desk is at the farthest end of the building. Gathering stares from people due to the huffing and puffing noises I emit, not to mention my (again) frequent stops, I make it to the check in desk with my bags but minus a little dignity.
Unfortunately, dignity doesn't weigh anything. Bags do. I was 3.4kg over the 15kg allowed and got sent across to the other side of the building again (sans case this time!) to pay "5.50gbp" (damn the lack of pound sign!) as the check in desk guy told me. When I get there, he (non-smiling, grumpy-looking) girl tells me it's 16.50gbp. It was 5.50gbp per kilo - ouch
. At least they didn't round i t up! They take my money without a smile (despite my best "I'm-totally-knackered-and-$h1tting-myself-bu-trying-to-brighten-your-day attitude) and send me back to the check in guy. He hands me my boarding pass and I was good to go, albeit a little poorer.I toddle on up to the bar, rethink and head back down to the perfume shop. I just know I am going to stink from festering on planes for 24hrs and that this is going to be added to by panic-sweat about immigration. I hunt for one of my faves (Nina Ricci) and douse myself liberally, trying not to choke on the stench but knowing that I (and whoever has the misfortune to sit next to me) will appreciate it post-immigration.
I head back up to the bar and buy myself a pint. 2.99gbp isn't too bad imho but after I had to pay a small fortune for my case I could only afford one. Probably for the best as it was only 7am... I try and relax - do a couple of puzzles but can't really focus; get my reading book out but can't ge beyond reading three words - it just doesn't seem to make sense.
Eventually I give up, go to the loo and wait to board my plane to DUB. It doesn't take long. I grab a seat next to a window (apparently it's first-come, first-served so I didn' need a seat number) then realise hat I needed the loo. Again. I get up and ask the grmpy-faced flight attendant. Nope. I have to wait until we are in flight.
Luckily it didn't take too long. Almost as soon as the seatbelt light turned off we had an announcement hat we would shortly begin our descent ino DUB! I considered going to the loo again just in case as I didn't want to get caught out but figured we would be there soon. Just as well I only had the one pint!
The plane landed 10 mins early. There was a fanfare on the tannoy blurting out yet more reasons why Ryanair was so great. It was a bit of a rocky landing but at least we were all in one piece. To add to things we could get off at the back of the plane so I didn't have to wait around too much.
Dublin Airport. Oh dear. I confidently sride the 25 miles to baggage claims, wrestle with a trolley (at least they had them!) before a nice Irish lady explained I had to squeeze the handle and bar together for the brakes to come off, then pull hard. I do so and acquire two trolleys. She relieves me of one and I set off again. Just as I arrive at the carousel, I spy my case just about to get to me - result! I was so happy I went through quickly as I only had a 2 1/2 hour layover and I didn't know how long immigration would take.
I adorn my trolley with a variety of bags, cases, paperwork and myself before striding off once again, following the signs for connections. I arrive crestfallen at the foot of a flight of stairs, spot a guy standing at the bottom and ask if there is any way I can get to the top with my trolley. He points me in the direction of a lift and off I go again.
I get to the lift, head on up and start wandering through carpeted (?!) corridors. Maybe I should have gotten suspicious when I didn't see anyone else with a trolley! As I was coming up to a particularly narrow corridor, someone else was walking towards me. I step to the side to let him pass.
The man stops and asks if I am lost. I answer "I don't think so" and explain that I am trying to make a connecting flight on Delta and followed the connections signs (all the time thinking if he was asking whether I was lost, I probably was). After establishing that I needed a boarding pass to be where I was (whoops
) he let me keep my trolley (yay!) and ushered me through one of those sliding frosted glass screen doors, under a tensa-barrier and back to where I belonged. After him telling me where the Delta check in desk was located, I thanked him and navigated the confusing mess of roped areas, queueing areas and barriers.Lesson #1: When landing in DUB, follow the EXIT signs after picking up your luggage *unless* you have a boarding pass for your connecting flight
I make it to the Delta check in desk. I queue up and security checks are carried out. A cute Irish guy asks where I am staying, why I am visiting (I tell him I am visiting my boyfriend for Valenine's Day), asks for extra ID (I give him my driving license) and wanders off (all of this while in the queue). He comes back, speaks to another guy and wanders off again. Mine seems to be taking longer than anyone else (though I may have just been paranoid) and the panic-sweat begins. Suddenly I am glad of the overly-strong perfume. Eventually he comes back, hands everything over to me including a customs form and an immigration form and tells me to have a good Valentine's Day.
I continue to check in and it's fine - don't even need to pay extra this time which is nice(!). I then get told that I have to go straight to my gate (B34) to go through US Immigration.
*gulp*
I wander down and there is a gigantic queue. The IO setup looks identical to what I am used to in LAX although a couple of IOs appear to smile from time to time which is reassuring. I feel surprisingly calm but as I approach the last turn of the line, I feel that panic-sweat again. Trying to deep-breathe and maintain my composure, I continue on, hoping for a lady IO that I notice crack a smile.
Nope. I get the older looking guy. He looked about 50-55 or so. I walked up with a smile, hoping the panic wouldn't show in my expression and that he wouldn't notice my fumbling, near-shaking hands. He said "Tell me about yourself." I was gobsmacked and asked him what he wanted to know. I couldn't hear him too well behind the glass and so he repeated himself: "Are you travelling by yourself?" Whoops. Now I not only look panicked but at best look stupid and at worst, suspicious already. He smiles. YES! I GOT A HUMAN ONE!!! I breathe a bit of a sigh of relief. Not home dry yet but a least I know he is not one of the "robots". He asks me the usual questions, with perhaps a few exra thrown in for good measure:
- Are you ravelling by yourself? Yes
- Who are you visiting? Friends? Family? I am going to visit my boyfriend for Valentine's Day (big smile on face)
- Is your boyfriend American? Yes
- Where are you staying? I give him the name and address of he hotel I am staying on our first couple nights
- Is it a holiday? Yes - I think I need one!
- How long are you staying for? Three weeks
- What do you do? I'm an administration assistant - nothing exciting but it brings a bit of money in. Not a lot but it's enough.
- Where are you coming from? Bristol
Lesson #2: I probably panic-elaborated on some of my answers but the IO was quite nice and friendly. I didn't offer any info he didn't ask for and nothing came up about the K-1 or any home-ties so I didn't mention them. Obviously it is good to have them to hand just in case. On another note, I was not lying (before I get hate-PMs about committing visa-fraud) about not getting married. In the eyes of the law I am not getting married as I will not have a license and will not sign a certificate. As the question wasn't "Are you intending to have a marriage-type ceremony of any description" I felt justified in the answer I gave. Just thought I would clear that up
I can also advise that this situation is not ideal and was not planned - we expected to have our visa by now and planned things prematurely. Don't plan things on the basis that you may be able to have a "non-legal" wedding because the stress just isn't worth it - we just had no other option short of losing thousands of dollars ourselves as well as our family members.I was kinda shell-shocked about getting through. I punched out a text to send to mum, dad, debz and Jeremy and it wouldn't send. So I found a payphone. I called Pete's mobile. Nothing. Called home. Sounded like a fax machine - wtf?! Call Jeremy's cell - it's like 2.30am PST but at least he answers. The phone is eating through my 3gbp so I hurriedly tell him I got through (which he clarifies about three times - and he wasn't worried?! Ha!) and ask him to text mum, give him debz' number and get him to let her know too.
Now I am over the Atlantic, emotional and a little teary but so happy it is done. In-flight movie about to start. And must say as far as planes go, Delta has comfy seats.
Love you guys
Aly
So there you have it! My wonderful if terrifying experience of Dublin POE. Ok... to summarise:
It really was no different to go through immigration in DUB than LAX or any other US POE I have used - I have had friendly and scary IOs in a variety of airports. However - the best thing was knowing that I was flying home to Jeremy without having the fear of getting denied entry on US soil. I must say it was well worth doing for the peace of mind I had for the remaining 17 hrs(!!!) of my journey
Especially 'you're not getting married are you?' I think I would have burst into tears at that point.
awww 
in Ontario where I literally walked off the plane, followed the signs to baggage reclaim then saw Jeremy waiting for me!!! No passport, no customs, no nothing! AND Jeremy was able to pick up my case so I didn't have to bruise my other leg!!!
Well... at least I found it entertaining 
!!
