Rocky start in Detroit, but at last, Charleston

The Post and Courier
Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Could I dream of a better place for my very first time in the United States than Charleston? After all, your city has been voted the friendliest city in the nation, hasn't it? Yet, I must confess I did not feel all that comfortable at the very beginning.

I landed in America at Detroit Airport, where my first steps in your country felt like trying to get into a fortress. Surely, like any other country, America tries to prevent parasites and terrorists from invading it. As a result, I found myself amid hundreds of people queuing up at customs. I stood there, anxious to meet my first interlocutor on American soil. The customs officer I met must have been briefed to be as unfriendly as possible, because he performed his task with utmost suspicion. Before voicing a cold "Welcome to America."

Once I had passed through customs, I naively believed the worst was behind me. Nope. I soon had to queue up again and tell another unfriendly guy why I was here. The more people I met, the guiltier I felt. That is when I suddenly realized how traveling through Europe is the easiest thing on Earth. Now I'll feel at home all over Europe, even in Greece.

Then came the most dreaded moments of all, luggage control. Travelers all over the world now have to comply with millions of precautions when packing, for fear of being told they can't come aboard once at the airport. But this is not enough for American standards: I was sent to a special area for, I guess, those who look too suspect.

When queuing, I watched an American family on their way back from France. They kept smiley faces despite the customs officers opening one of the bottles of wine they had brought back from the French vineyards. The officers smelled and tasted it, before emptying it in a washbasin. I found myself thinking that had they poured the wine into their glasses instead of the washbasin, this obviously good wine would have not gone to waste, and the atmosphere would have taken a more relaxed turn.

I woke up from my reverie of customs officers having a toast with travelers, to find two of them opening up my suitcase and my bags, turning it all upside down. After my luggage had been messed up, they just turned their back to me, which I guess means, "Nothing dangerous in there: have a nice day sir." Next step: pass it all again through the X-ray machine — in case I would add some terrorist stuff in the meantime, I suppose.

That is when I noticed an old man with crutches and an obvious pain in his lower back being searched by officers. He had to take his shoes off, and even his shirt. His wife was waiting by his side, obviously distressed. They let him go without finding anything. I turned away with a weird sensation: If I felt upset, he must have felt humiliated. After what seemed like forever, I was left feeling more of a foreigner than ever, and not that safe after all.

Once I was released from the customs area, I was really surprised by my surroundings. That might sound offensive and cliche, but all I could see were junk food restaurants, groups of obese people walking around with utmost difficulty and an old black man cleaning the restrooms, also with difficulty. TV screens were broadcasting visually aggressive CNN programs. I felt somewhere in between "Super Size Me" and "Fahrenheit 9/11."

But this demoralizing experience was soon forgotten once I arrived in Charleston. As soon as I stepped into the airport terminal, there was something familiar in the air. Was it that dimly lighted, out of date interior design? It was like a trip back to the 1980s, and I expected to see J.R. Ewing around the corner, in a leather seat, with a glass of whisky in his hand.

Instead, I was greeted by the smiley faces of people chatting carelessly despite the long minutes it took for the luggage to arrive. After stepping into the humid warm air of Charleston — I couldn't believe a night could be SO warm! — I felt comfort when people kept on smiling at me and even police officers seemed friendly. Charleston seemed as warm on the outside as its people's hearts. This might be the most wonderful way to make people feel safe.