I Went To London And All I Got Was This Lousy Comb
It's been a week since what could possibly be known as The Worst Day of my Life thus far and I'd like to say that I've completely recovered from it and barely think about it now. Sadly, it's only been a week and while I'm happy to be free from Immigration Jail, the truth is that I can't seem to shake the guard's voice in my head, questioning me, mocking me, taunting me. And I'm tired. Really tired. I'm tired from telling the tale; I'm tired from doing regular daily things; I'm just really, really tired.
Some interesting tidbits I haven't shared with you yet:
They gave us personal hygiene kits. This isn't an actual photo, but it's close. In my plastic zip-up container, I received the following goodies: a bar of soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush, a pair of black men's socks, a plain black comb, and a wash cloth (in other words: A KIT JUST LIKE A FREAKING PRISONER WOULD GET IN JAIL). As we weren't allowed to shower, I had to make do with this "treat." My only souvenir. Sad.
On the TV in the "jail," they were playing a Cops-like show about Border Patrol. That's right - a reality show about Border Patrol busting detainees trying to get through Customs. The group of us (five terrorist looking men and me) had this on in the room as if it was some cruel joke. I thought I was being "punked."
On the flip side, one of the guys in the pen with me was very kind. Although he didn't speak a word of English, he not only got me water when I was hysterically crying, but he laid out a pillow and blanket for me to lie down with. Small things are appreciated, especially when you're London's Most Wanted like me. :)