The flight had landed a while ago and the screen said the checked luggage had been delivered, and still no sis. Then a caller-ID blocked number rang my mobile phone. “Hello?” “This is Soandso from Immigration Suchandsuch to whom am I speaking?”
They didn’t want to let my sister into the country! Moreover, they wanted to come nab me, too. (“Where are you right now? Do you have your passport with you?”) Til the stories stood up to enough grilling, I guess. Poor Ya Ya. Sweating bullets under some flickering light bulb in a room with the mean immigration man. Jonesing for a ciggy after a ten hour flight. Thinking she’d gotten me busted and deported.
Came out the cattle chute looking pale and feeling a bit sweaty to the touch (but otherwise beautiful, sissy!)
So far the rude welcome hasn’t seemed to dampen her enthusiasm for Angleterre.
