When somebody ask, who are you, many of us may say our country of origin. I am Danish, I am American, I am Austrian and so on. Maybe we will use our job title. I am a teacher, I am a writer, computer nerd, but now I can add another title. I am an alien. I must admit, I always thought that aliens were small green creatures who came from outer space to visit area 51 in Nevada, or just something or someone
Hollywood invented to make movies and money. But apparently I am now one. The reason I know this, the American government told me.
As a Danish citizen, I am used to filling out a lot of forms, when entering the US. To get through emigration, I had to stand in the visitors line, along with row after row of other visitors and a lot of patience, have my left and right index finger printed, not forgetting having my picture taken. But before that could take place, the immigration officer had gone through all my papers, making sure, I would be leaving the country again and also know for what reason I was in the US. Business or pleasure.
But coming to the US from Denmark this time was very different.
I was no longer a visitor, so I couldn’t go in the visitors line. Thank God, because it was already filling up. So i continued a little further. US citizens only, read the next sign. That is not me either. Who am I? and where do I go? Wont they let me in? But just before panic set in, I saw my sign. Aliens further along. Alien, yep that is me.
I had my own line in Newark airport.
The best thing was, I didn’t have to wait at all. Went straight to the little booth and showed my green card.
The officer smiled, they normally never do, and said welcome back.
Ah. It is good to be an alien. A legal alien, that is.