Visa
So yesterday I was at the American embassy in London for the final stage of the torturous visa application process - the interview. Here's my description of the day, as written for the excellent Dive Into America forum, without which making sense of the whole horrible mess of forms and regulations would have been far, far harder ...
I turned up at the Embassy in plenty of time, carrying just my paperwork folder, having left my phone and other items with a friend I was staying with. I was on my own, my wife staying at home in Glasgow, since we have a six-month old son and didn't want to have to drag him down to London. The embassy building itself was a little underwhelming, being a grey 1960's concrete slab on one side of an otherwise picturesque square. I had imagined something far grander, but I digress. The day was cold but dry, and there was a very short queue to see the first security guard. She checked my passport and appointment letter, asked if I had any electronic items (to which I said no), and sent me on to the security checkpoint.
In the little security building I was asked to remove all metal objects from my pockets, this I did, and the guard spotted my car keys. I thought I had left all electronic items at home, but had forgotten about the remote for the car and was sent back out. I nipped along to Gould's pharmacy, which is just a couple of minutes walk along the road, and had to pay £5 for pleasure of having them look after my keys. (Actually £6, for storage and a packet of Smints, since I didn't have enough cash and they don't take cards for purchases under £6.)
Back at the embassy I went through security, round to the door for visa appointments, and into the building proper. At the front desk I was given number 5023 and shown into the waiting room, which was uncomfortably warm and pretty crowded. My heart sank when I saw the screen indicating that they were currently serving number 1021, but thankfully realised that there were two queues - one for non immigrant visas with numbers beginning at 1000, and another for immigrant visas starting at 5000. According to the screen, there were seven people ahead of me in that queue.
I sat and waited, wishing I had brought a book, but probably too nervous to concentrate on it if I had. At one point an alarm went off and a recorded voice announced "Blast Warning! Move away from windows! Duck and cover!" which was somewhat disconcerting until a rather sheepish voice came over the tannoy and said "Er... please ignore that last message."
After about an hour I was called up to a window and asked for my identification. He then told me to wait while he fetched my file, returning with a folder and the large brown envelope containing my chest x-ray. He asked when I was planning to move, and I replied "mid February", and he pointed out that I would only have until April to make use of my visa, since my medical had taken place in April last year, and the chest x-ray is only valid for a year. (We had originally received an appointment last year, and rescheduled, but I went for my medical at that time anyway. I knew that the results of the medical were only valid for a year, but though that was fine so long as you had your visa appointment in that time. It turns out that you have to TRAVEL in that year - something to be aware of.) He then asked for each piece of my documentation and copies thereof and took my fingerprints before sending me to the cashier's desk, where I paid my $400 and brought him back the receipt. I was given a form to fill out for the courier, specifying the address to which my passport would be returned, and asked me to sit down again.
Another hour of waiting passed uneventfully before I was called up again for the interview. This time it was a very pleasant American lady, who returned the original copies of my documents. She took my fingerprints again and asked where my wife was, the year in which we were married, pointed out that because my wife had not earned enough to file taxes that she was invalid as a sponsor, but that my joint sponsor was acceptable, and asked why we were moving to the states. She also wanted to know if my wife had a home in the US. I answered "no", but was about to show her the rental agreement on the apartment we had found when we were last over as proof of intent to domicile, when she asked about my home here. I told her that our flat was under offer. She asked how much we were selling it for, and seemed happy with that. I had brought along the offer letter, but she didn't ask for any proof. Finally, she asked about employment, and I explained that I was transferring to the US division of the company I worked for now, and told her how much my US salary would be.
With that she said that she "couldn't tell me that my visa was authorised" because they still had to run a fingerprint check, but that as far as she was concerned everything was in order. She told me to take the courier form to the desk by the entrance to the waiting room, and that I should expect my passport, and the legendary sealed brown envelope of mystery, in 3-5 working days, wished me luck with the move and told me to have a nice day. Elated, I paid the courier and headed back to my friend's flat (via Gould's) to phone the missus with the good news.
A pretty standard tale for these parts, I suppose, but if I have any advice it's to make sure that your pockets are emptied of ANY electronic device whatsoever (Would they have knocked me back for a digital watch, for example? What about an analogue one?) and bring a pen so that you don't have to borrow one to fill out the courier form, and a book to fend off boredom.
(Incidentally, I receive a text today to say that the courier should be delivering my passport and visa tomorrow. Not bad - they quoted me 3-5 working days but got it to me in 2.)
Labels: move
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2 Comments:
Good grief! Well I am glad it went ok in the end!
By
alice, at 10:46 PM
The American Embassy will probably be even more underwhelming when it moves to Nine Elms.
By
Forest Pines, at 9:35 AM
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