davidn

It has struck me that I should really be tagging all these entries to do with immigration in case anyone else on my friends list has to go through the same thing in years to come, so that people have some idea of what to expect from the immigration services. But I think that the whole process would just seem so ghastly that if I highlighted the steps it would put everyone off trying to get into America ever again. This is the latest step in the sequence.

I woke up at 5am (which I am still thinking of as 8am because of the time difference) and dragged myself out of bed shortly later so that I would have time to prepare myself for the coming appointment. At about 7:40, Malcolm and I arrived at a building named the Application Support Center, which sounds like part of a Microsoft help file. There was already a queue outside - nowhere near as bad as the one at the Embassy, but it still seemed like we were going to have to wait a while. Surprisingly the place opened at exactly 8am and we were given a form to fill out as we sat and waited for my number to be called.

There's another surprise here. The people doing this part of the immigration process were really quite efficient. The form was admittedly quite difficult to fill out because there were questions about hair and eye colour (and Malcolm is colourblind as well so he couldn't help). I only just about had enough time to finish filling it out before I was called up, showed my passport and appointment letter and was asked to hold out my hands for examination. After confirming that they looked like hands, I was sent upstairs to Level 2, with a slightly more challenging layout and the addition of purple monsters.

Actually, what was up there was another waiting area, with a TV showing Mr Bean for entertainment as the queue waited. Not that I had to wait long - they were still keeping up, and there were only three people in front of me before I was called over to a computer wired up to a large scary-looking machine.

The fingerprinting was not as pointless as I had first thought. This time, my prints were taken in groups as well as individually, with full rolls of each of my fingers being taken. The box "Fingerprints and biometrics" had been ticked on my form by the receptionist, and evidently "Biometrics" meant "Having my photo taken". That was all that was needed, and there was even a feedback form that I was given to tell them how efficient I thought they were. So I am now part of the system forever.

I must have been in and out of the place in half an hour, which is a huge improvement from any other step in this far too long and torturous process.

Now the only thing worrying me - and this might sound a bit strange - is Richard Hammond. It isn't as bad as when I found out about Richard Whiteley last year, but it's not far off... with many British television presenters you tend to get the feeling you know them far more than you really do after listening to them for a number of years. The response from the entirety of Britain has been amazing, and the people at the Final Gear forums are getting together a fund for a custom crash helmet to be made as a get-well-soon gift.

If the protestors succeed in putting pressure on to cancel the programme because of this, I may have to be a bit annoyed.