I must confess that I did have a bad experience with immigration officials, but not in AZ. I’m a Hebrew Hispanic, though my family has been in the USA since 1908. I have a Hispanic last name and that Middle-Eastern look, which is very similar to that of many Hispanics.
I was coming ack from our missions in Ecuador and I was pulled into a small room at the airport in Miami. I had to go through immigration and customs at Miami before proceeding to Pgh. They asked me at least five times about my citizenship. I showed them my passport. I did not have a birth certificate. They asked me if I had other proof of citizenship. I did not. They wanted to know what I was entering and leaving the USA so often. I explained that I was a missionary. You have to get this picture. I’m wearing a full habit and in my suitcase there is another habit. I have a backpack with a breviary and a bible in it. In my pockets I had a rosary.
They made me empty out my backpack and my pockets. They asked me if I had anything else. I said that I did not. They asked me for my license. I gave it to them. They did not like it, because it was an international license. I explained that I was a missionary and therefore I had an international license, because I often drove in the USA, Ecuador, Colombia and Peru, which neighbor Ecuador to the north and south. This whole conversation is taking place in English.
They kept asking me where I was born. I told them that I was born in Virginia. This part is acutally funny. One of the two people asked me if there was any other way that I could prove that I was an American. At which point I’m getting very upset, because I have to make a connecting flight to Pittsburgh. I turned around toward the two men and began to sing the Star Spangled Banner.
I should have been arrested for slaughtering that National Anthem. I can’t reach those high notes. They just looked at each other and told me to go. But I was very upset.
Fraternally,
Br. JR, OSF