Security Measures
Since I've been going on about US government bureaucracy stuff, I thought you might be interested in learning about visiting US Consulates and Federal Buildings. It's definitely a whole new world out here!
TORONTO U.S. CONSULATE
Back in August, Toby and I went to the US Consulate while we were staying with my aunt Eva in Toronto. We thought we'd get a heads-up on how the whole Permanent Resident application process worked. In the end, we didn't find out, but we did learn a lot about how security works at these places.
We arrived to find a 10-person lineup outside the consulate building. Outside security guards must be instructed to be extra surly. We had to line up in single file against the wall. U.S. citizens seemed to make up a different line-up and were ushered in way faster than visa people. Since the visa office closed at 1pm, they let many of us in at 12:55pm. We were told that no food, water or electronics would be allowed inside. Anyone with a cell phone had to hide the phones in bushes around adjacent buildings.
Once inside, we had to pass our belongings through an x-ray machine, forfeit our passports for recording to another security guard, while yet another guard watched us through airport-style metal detectors. Luckily Toby and I had read the "Before You Visit" info page and knew not to bring large bags, electronics, nor sustenance with us.
We were told to go to the crowded visa waiting room, where we took a number and waiting for half an hour. Finally we were called up. Since we had not one, but TWO questions to ask, the information person was quite rude, saying, "We closed at 1pm, make your second question quick!" Whatever.
Thankfully, there were public bathrooms within the building.
VANCOUVER U.S. CONSULATE
I arrived about 20 min early for my K-3 visa interview, and found nearly 30 people in line at the "9:30am" placard, and about a dozen at the "10:00am" line. (My interview was scheduled for 10am.). While I knew not to bring food, water, and electronics, I was at a loss as to how to carry and store my pile of documents and that life-size chest x-ray I was told to bring along. In the end, I opted for a shoulder bag, having the x-ray stick out, and hoped for the best.
About 30 minutes after I arrived, the surly outside security guard pointed to me, and asked if I was at the consulate for a K-visa interview. I replied, "Yes", and he pulled me out of line and took me to the entrance. He also informed me that my bag was too large. Apparently there was no space inside the building for such large bags! I proceeded to take out all the contents, trying not to drop anything important into snowy puddles. As the guard let me inside, he said my bag would be alright after all. Great.
I juggled everything back into the bag while simultaneously walking through the doorway. No small feat for one as clumsy as I am! This entrance was obviously once a back exit, having about a 6 ft x 6 ft floor area and a stairway going up. In this small space, we were told to surrender our bags and jackets for visual inspection, and we had to walk through a metal detector. All belts had to be removed. Then we were waved upstairs.
Confusion at the top of the stairwell, where consular visitors were vomited into a giant open area, with passages to several possible destinations. Without obvious signage, I went to the one room in sight, a large waiting area and clear line-ups. Here, I took out my passport and documentation and headed for the nearest line-up: the Cashier.
Luckily, the cashier that day was friendly. She told me I was in the wrong place, that I needed to tell the security guard to let into the elevator and up to the 20th floor, but she also glued my photos to the proper places on my various documents. Hurray for nice people!
Outside that busy waiting area, and into the confusion at the top of the stairs. This time, I found a security guard who was trying to deal with far too many confused people. He let me into the elevator and buzzed me up to the 20th floor. (The elevator required a special pass to permit it to go to various extra-secure floors.)
At the 20th floor, there was another visual inspection of my bag, and another metal detector. I guess that's in case I managed to fashion some sort of unsavoury metallic item using resources scrounged from the elevator. Or something. They called someone to tell them I was coming, and checked my name off of some list. I was escorted to another waiting area which had required a security code at the door.
Inside, I found another confusing hallway of kiosk windows, which I later figured out to be interview windows for people applying for visiting visas to the US. My area was a more of a room than a hallway, and had only a handful of kiosk windows. Finally I was called to the window, and surrendered all my documents, and told to wait. Let me put in a good word for that kind man who took care of all the documents. He looked through everything to make sure it was all there, told me what would be happening. (What a concept, telling people what's going to happen so they're not left waiting and wondering "what next?"!) He even went so far as to mention that my file looked good and that I probably would have no trouble getting the visa!
Then, it was a waiting game. In that 1.5 hrs, I met two other women, who were interviewing for fiancee visas. They too were pulled out of the line-up outside. Maybe that outside security guard had one of the dozen or so passport photos I've had to submit thus far! We learned of each other's stories, how we met our significant others, and other such relevant details. They certainly helped the time pass! It's nerve-wracking, waiting to be interviewed for something so important, but not knowing what questions might be asked, not having a clock, being dehydrated, hungry and with a full bladder!
Finally we were each called to the kiosk window by Nice Man to be finger-printed using a fancy optical machine. Then, we got to walk down the long hallway of kiosks to find the cashier on this floor, and pay our $100 US fee. (Forms claimed this fee was for a machine-readable visa to be imprinted into our passports, but the fee was to be paid whether or not the visa was granted. So, really, it's just another administration fee, and they should simply name it as such.)
More waiting, then the immigration officer gave each of us a 5-minute interview. The two fiancees were both missing documentation. Hopefully they'll have that sorted out by now. One woman was to get married in Las Vegas April 21st, so she definitely needed the visa before then! My interview was fairly straight-forward. I was asked: my wedding date, Toby's birthday, what he did, how and where we'd met, what my specialty in physics was, whether or not I had ever worked with weapons of mass destruction, what I planned to do work-wise. Then he said that everything was in order, and that my visa was a go. Rejoice! I let out a sigh of relief and was even able to share a bit of banter with the immigration officer while he signed a few documents. (He was, after all, wearing a salmon-pink shirt and a wild tie under his gray suit; I figured he ought to have a sense of humour.) Nice guy came back to the window and told me to return at 2pm to that window to get my passport, visa and more documents. Yay!
I had just enough time for lunch and returned to find the consulate entrance strangely devoid of people. The same routine (security at this back exit, security at the top of the stairs, and more security at the 20th floor.) This time, though, my bag was swabbed for a chemical analysis in addition to the other measures. I met the immigration officer at the elevator and he joked that he finally got to take lunch. Nice man at the kiosk windo handed me my passport, complete with visa imprint, and a whole package of paperwork to be given at my point-of-entry to the US.
FEDERAL BUILDING, NEW YORK
Here, confusion began before even entering the building, as construction blocked-off the most obvious entraceway. The line-drawing pointed to my entrance. At the top of the steps leading to the entrance, a security guard asked to see my Infopass. This was a printout from an online appointment scheduler, with which I had made my appointment 2 days earlier. He let me down the 10-or-so steps, where there was another security guard. He also asked to see my Infopass. (Uh, redudancy, anyone?) I got to wait outside for a minute, then let into the airport-security-like area. Guards here were annoyed that visitors weren't listening to instructions, "Put all your stuff into your JACKET pocket, remove your jackets." Not too difficult to follow, but I guess these visiting Americans felt that they were exempt from these instructions. So we proceeded ever so slowly to the x-ray machine, where we deposited our bags and jackets, removed our belts, and walked though the metal detector.
Past the security area was yet another guard, who informed me I was to go to the 3rd floor after seeing my Infopass. Upstairs and through a maze of crowd-control ropes, I showed my Infopass to another security guard, and entered a short line of people to ask questions about immigration. While the person answering my questions was very polite and friendly, he ended up giving me incorrect information. He got me a number, and told me to wait in the large room across the hall. Which was not as simple as just crossing the hallway, of course. More mazes then finally to the huge room.
Visitors entered this room near its centre, with each side showing about 10 kiosk windows and about 150 seats arranged in neat rows. They were calling "B222" when I walked in, and I was "B272". If I had been thinking I would have gone up to the 31st floor right then to apply for my Social Security Number, but alas, I hadn't thought that far ahead. Instead, I waited for an hour and half for my number to be called. At the appointed kiosk window, I was informed that the package of forms I was there to receive was not, in fact, dispensed in that room. WHAT? Instead, I had to go to the first floor Forms Room to pick up the forms. GRRRR!
I head up to the 31st floor, where the security guard asks me what I'm there for. He hands me an application, tell me to press "1" on the keypad next to him, which causes a computer to spit out a number for me. There are signs everywhere saying that cell phones must be turned inside federal buildings. Yet one loud man is negotiating into his cell phone. Security guard gets up and mumbles, "Why are people always making work for me?" (yay for New York work ethic) and yell at the loud man to turn off his cell phone. There's another hilarious sign: "Warning: it is a federal offence to kill, kidnap, maim, injure, forcibly assault, abuse, intimidate or threaten a federal employee in the course of his/her work". Uh, isn't it generally a federal offence to kill, maim, assault and abuse? Anyway, I wait a total of 45 minutes to apply for my Social Security Number. Which I find out I can't do until I receive my Employment Authorization Document. At least this man had the decency to say, "Sorry you had to wait to find that out."
Back to the first floor I go, and into the Forms Room. This room looks like it used to be a large storage hall, where they've plunked down a long counter ripped up from somewhere else, and a lone man with boxes of forms sits and hands out forms. A large sign on his kiosk window reads, "No questions will be answered." I get my package of forms, and am told to read the instructions. Thanks. I was thinking of just randomly scribbling across the forms before he told me to read the instructions first.
It takes a few moments to figure out where I can exit the building, since all exits seem to be roped off, and the entrances are guarded with metal detectors (for visitors) or electronically-gated entrances (for employees). Finally, a guard removes a rope and lets a few of us bleary-eyed visitors leave.
This was a 5-hour day and I'll get to repeat it when I return to ask about the confusing package of forms (which I'm not even sure I need to, are am supposed to, submit) and to apply for my Social Security Number once I receive the right documents.
SUMMARY
What have we learned from all these adventures? US Immigration offices seem to like rows of kiosk windows. Don't bring food, water, electronics or anything else into the buildings. But you need to have copious documentation which magically all fit into your jacket pockets.
TORONTO U.S. CONSULATE
Back in August, Toby and I went to the US Consulate while we were staying with my aunt Eva in Toronto. We thought we'd get a heads-up on how the whole Permanent Resident application process worked. In the end, we didn't find out, but we did learn a lot about how security works at these places.
We arrived to find a 10-person lineup outside the consulate building. Outside security guards must be instructed to be extra surly. We had to line up in single file against the wall. U.S. citizens seemed to make up a different line-up and were ushered in way faster than visa people. Since the visa office closed at 1pm, they let many of us in at 12:55pm. We were told that no food, water or electronics would be allowed inside. Anyone with a cell phone had to hide the phones in bushes around adjacent buildings.
Once inside, we had to pass our belongings through an x-ray machine, forfeit our passports for recording to another security guard, while yet another guard watched us through airport-style metal detectors. Luckily Toby and I had read the "Before You Visit" info page and knew not to bring large bags, electronics, nor sustenance with us.
We were told to go to the crowded visa waiting room, where we took a number and waiting for half an hour. Finally we were called up. Since we had not one, but TWO questions to ask, the information person was quite rude, saying, "We closed at 1pm, make your second question quick!" Whatever.
Thankfully, there were public bathrooms within the building.
VANCOUVER U.S. CONSULATE
I arrived about 20 min early for my K-3 visa interview, and found nearly 30 people in line at the "9:30am" placard, and about a dozen at the "10:00am" line. (My interview was scheduled for 10am.). While I knew not to bring food, water, and electronics, I was at a loss as to how to carry and store my pile of documents and that life-size chest x-ray I was told to bring along. In the end, I opted for a shoulder bag, having the x-ray stick out, and hoped for the best.
About 30 minutes after I arrived, the surly outside security guard pointed to me, and asked if I was at the consulate for a K-visa interview. I replied, "Yes", and he pulled me out of line and took me to the entrance. He also informed me that my bag was too large. Apparently there was no space inside the building for such large bags! I proceeded to take out all the contents, trying not to drop anything important into snowy puddles. As the guard let me inside, he said my bag would be alright after all. Great.
I juggled everything back into the bag while simultaneously walking through the doorway. No small feat for one as clumsy as I am! This entrance was obviously once a back exit, having about a 6 ft x 6 ft floor area and a stairway going up. In this small space, we were told to surrender our bags and jackets for visual inspection, and we had to walk through a metal detector. All belts had to be removed. Then we were waved upstairs.
Confusion at the top of the stairwell, where consular visitors were vomited into a giant open area, with passages to several possible destinations. Without obvious signage, I went to the one room in sight, a large waiting area and clear line-ups. Here, I took out my passport and documentation and headed for the nearest line-up: the Cashier.
Luckily, the cashier that day was friendly. She told me I was in the wrong place, that I needed to tell the security guard to let into the elevator and up to the 20th floor, but she also glued my photos to the proper places on my various documents. Hurray for nice people!
Outside that busy waiting area, and into the confusion at the top of the stairs. This time, I found a security guard who was trying to deal with far too many confused people. He let me into the elevator and buzzed me up to the 20th floor. (The elevator required a special pass to permit it to go to various extra-secure floors.)
At the 20th floor, there was another visual inspection of my bag, and another metal detector. I guess that's in case I managed to fashion some sort of unsavoury metallic item using resources scrounged from the elevator. Or something. They called someone to tell them I was coming, and checked my name off of some list. I was escorted to another waiting area which had required a security code at the door.
Inside, I found another confusing hallway of kiosk windows, which I later figured out to be interview windows for people applying for visiting visas to the US. My area was a more of a room than a hallway, and had only a handful of kiosk windows. Finally I was called to the window, and surrendered all my documents, and told to wait. Let me put in a good word for that kind man who took care of all the documents. He looked through everything to make sure it was all there, told me what would be happening. (What a concept, telling people what's going to happen so they're not left waiting and wondering "what next?"!) He even went so far as to mention that my file looked good and that I probably would have no trouble getting the visa!
Then, it was a waiting game. In that 1.5 hrs, I met two other women, who were interviewing for fiancee visas. They too were pulled out of the line-up outside. Maybe that outside security guard had one of the dozen or so passport photos I've had to submit thus far! We learned of each other's stories, how we met our significant others, and other such relevant details. They certainly helped the time pass! It's nerve-wracking, waiting to be interviewed for something so important, but not knowing what questions might be asked, not having a clock, being dehydrated, hungry and with a full bladder!
Finally we were each called to the kiosk window by Nice Man to be finger-printed using a fancy optical machine. Then, we got to walk down the long hallway of kiosks to find the cashier on this floor, and pay our $100 US fee. (Forms claimed this fee was for a machine-readable visa to be imprinted into our passports, but the fee was to be paid whether or not the visa was granted. So, really, it's just another administration fee, and they should simply name it as such.)
More waiting, then the immigration officer gave each of us a 5-minute interview. The two fiancees were both missing documentation. Hopefully they'll have that sorted out by now. One woman was to get married in Las Vegas April 21st, so she definitely needed the visa before then! My interview was fairly straight-forward. I was asked: my wedding date, Toby's birthday, what he did, how and where we'd met, what my specialty in physics was, whether or not I had ever worked with weapons of mass destruction, what I planned to do work-wise. Then he said that everything was in order, and that my visa was a go. Rejoice! I let out a sigh of relief and was even able to share a bit of banter with the immigration officer while he signed a few documents. (He was, after all, wearing a salmon-pink shirt and a wild tie under his gray suit; I figured he ought to have a sense of humour.) Nice guy came back to the window and told me to return at 2pm to that window to get my passport, visa and more documents. Yay!
I had just enough time for lunch and returned to find the consulate entrance strangely devoid of people. The same routine (security at this back exit, security at the top of the stairs, and more security at the 20th floor.) This time, though, my bag was swabbed for a chemical analysis in addition to the other measures. I met the immigration officer at the elevator and he joked that he finally got to take lunch. Nice man at the kiosk windo handed me my passport, complete with visa imprint, and a whole package of paperwork to be given at my point-of-entry to the US.
FEDERAL BUILDING, NEW YORK
Here, confusion began before even entering the building, as construction blocked-off the most obvious entraceway. The line-drawing pointed to my entrance. At the top of the steps leading to the entrance, a security guard asked to see my Infopass. This was a printout from an online appointment scheduler, with which I had made my appointment 2 days earlier. He let me down the 10-or-so steps, where there was another security guard. He also asked to see my Infopass. (Uh, redudancy, anyone?) I got to wait outside for a minute, then let into the airport-security-like area. Guards here were annoyed that visitors weren't listening to instructions, "Put all your stuff into your JACKET pocket, remove your jackets." Not too difficult to follow, but I guess these visiting Americans felt that they were exempt from these instructions. So we proceeded ever so slowly to the x-ray machine, where we deposited our bags and jackets, removed our belts, and walked though the metal detector.
Past the security area was yet another guard, who informed me I was to go to the 3rd floor after seeing my Infopass. Upstairs and through a maze of crowd-control ropes, I showed my Infopass to another security guard, and entered a short line of people to ask questions about immigration. While the person answering my questions was very polite and friendly, he ended up giving me incorrect information. He got me a number, and told me to wait in the large room across the hall. Which was not as simple as just crossing the hallway, of course. More mazes then finally to the huge room.
Visitors entered this room near its centre, with each side showing about 10 kiosk windows and about 150 seats arranged in neat rows. They were calling "B222" when I walked in, and I was "B272". If I had been thinking I would have gone up to the 31st floor right then to apply for my Social Security Number, but alas, I hadn't thought that far ahead. Instead, I waited for an hour and half for my number to be called. At the appointed kiosk window, I was informed that the package of forms I was there to receive was not, in fact, dispensed in that room. WHAT? Instead, I had to go to the first floor Forms Room to pick up the forms. GRRRR!
I head up to the 31st floor, where the security guard asks me what I'm there for. He hands me an application, tell me to press "1" on the keypad next to him, which causes a computer to spit out a number for me. There are signs everywhere saying that cell phones must be turned inside federal buildings. Yet one loud man is negotiating into his cell phone. Security guard gets up and mumbles, "Why are people always making work for me?" (yay for New York work ethic) and yell at the loud man to turn off his cell phone. There's another hilarious sign: "Warning: it is a federal offence to kill, kidnap, maim, injure, forcibly assault, abuse, intimidate or threaten a federal employee in the course of his/her work". Uh, isn't it generally a federal offence to kill, maim, assault and abuse? Anyway, I wait a total of 45 minutes to apply for my Social Security Number. Which I find out I can't do until I receive my Employment Authorization Document. At least this man had the decency to say, "Sorry you had to wait to find that out."
Back to the first floor I go, and into the Forms Room. This room looks like it used to be a large storage hall, where they've plunked down a long counter ripped up from somewhere else, and a lone man with boxes of forms sits and hands out forms. A large sign on his kiosk window reads, "No questions will be answered." I get my package of forms, and am told to read the instructions. Thanks. I was thinking of just randomly scribbling across the forms before he told me to read the instructions first.
It takes a few moments to figure out where I can exit the building, since all exits seem to be roped off, and the entrances are guarded with metal detectors (for visitors) or electronically-gated entrances (for employees). Finally, a guard removes a rope and lets a few of us bleary-eyed visitors leave.
This was a 5-hour day and I'll get to repeat it when I return to ask about the confusing package of forms (which I'm not even sure I need to, are am supposed to, submit) and to apply for my Social Security Number once I receive the right documents.
SUMMARY
What have we learned from all these adventures? US Immigration offices seem to like rows of kiosk windows. Don't bring food, water, electronics or anything else into the buildings. But you need to have copious documentation which magically all fit into your jacket pockets.
posted by blumaroo at
1:22 PM
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