Strawberry Fields
I stood in the seemingly endless immigration line at JFK with mixed feelings. Putting to the back of my mind that with some of the visas in my passport, I might be on the first plane back to Heathrow, I read a book as I made excruciatingly slow progress to the front of the snaking queue. The Hispanic border officer looked suspiciously at my rather worn out passport. It had pages of visas from countries that his President might not approve of. But after a good chat about trains – “is NYC to San Francisco as far as London to […]
