Global Entry and Me

I signed up and paid for the Global Entry pass, which would allow me to bypass security checks at the airport and to re-enter the United States more easily. 

In addition to filling out an application on-line, you have to go in for an interview at US Customs and Border Patrol.  In the Detroit Metro area, there are two offices, one at the airport and one at the Ambassador Bridge to Canada.  I chose the bridge office to avoid paying airport parking and having to find my way to the Global Entry office in the massively large airport zone.  My interview was today.

It was an adventure in driving to get there.  The Ambassador Bridge area always has heavy traffic, and it's confusing to boot.  I put the office's address in my GPS and headed out.  It was simple until I actually tried to get to the office.  The GPS put me on the opposite side of an imposing high wall that surrounded a compound of offices under the bridge.  The GE building was no doubt in there, but there seemed to be no way inside.

Fortunately, I'd given myself extra time when I left for just such an emergency. I checked on-line and found a set of written directions that were slightly different from the GPS ones.  Using these, I was able to find the place, but it was tricky.  You head down the highway exit where a number of signs warn you that you're heading to Canada and there's no re-entry to the United States.  Traffic crawls, and hundreds of semi trucks surround you, shoving you inevitably toward the bridge, but at the last minute, a little blue sign for Global Entry pops up and points you toward a half-hidden driveway. 

Relieved, I dodged down it and encountered a huge rolling gate between a set of Jersey barriers.  A stern, beefy border guard hustled up to my car.  Before he could say anything, I rolled down my window and said I had an appointment at the GE office.  Could he direct me?  His demeanor softened a tiny bit. "Do you have a sheet?" he asked.

I didn't know what he meant--I'd made the appointment on-line.  But I'd printed out the email that confirmed my appointment, so I held that up.  He accepted this, opened the gate, and pointed me in the right direction.  After a bit of hunting, I found a parking space and went into a low brick building.

Going into the Global Entry building is like entering a prison.  You stand in an entry way, hit an intercom to ask for entry, and get buzzed in by a disembodied voice.  Inside is a long, narrow room with a long line of stern-looking border guards in blue uniform at computer terminals.  There were no civilians in the room.  The first guard in the line told me to sign in and have a seat in some plastic chairs opposite the standing guards.  Big signs admonished everyone to turn their cell phones off completely Or Else.  I didn't feel like shutting down my phone, but the sign meant that I couldn't read or do anything else on my phone while I waited, so I perused some dull brochures about border security. 

After a few minutes, the first guard called me up and confirmed I was there for a Global Entry interview.  I envisioned being led into an interrogation room or something, but the guard said he would take my fingerprints and ask me some questions right there.  After he took my passport and ID, he clicked around on his computer.  Were my fingers warm?  Ready for printing?  I allowed that they seemed warm enough.

"FINGERS TOGETHER, RIGHT HAND!" he barked like a drill sergeant.  "PLACE THEM ON THE SCANNER!  PRESS DOWN!"

Eh?  I wasn't deaf.  Then it came to me that he was supposed to act Serious and Intimidating.  I actually found this kind of funny.  Until now, he'd been personable, if standoffish, and the sudden change almost made me laugh.  Besides, I recognized the barking trick.  I've used it myself in the classroom many times.  Hell, I practically =invented= the trick.  You bark unexpectedly, and it startles people into complacency.  I completely ignored his tone and instead held up my hand.

"Fingers like this?" I asked cheerfully.

This threw him off his stride, and he paused for half a beat.  "LIKE THAT!  FINGERS ON THE SCANNER! PRESS DOWN!"

I dutifully pressed on the little glass plate in front of his computer.

"FINGERS TOGETHER, LEFT HAND!  PRESS DOWN!"

I resisted the urge to hum a little tune and pressed down.

"THUMBS OF BOTH HANDS ON THE SCANNER! STAND BACK WITH YOUR ARMS FULLY EXTENDED! PRESS DOWN!"

And I pressed down.

"Did it go through okay?" I asked as he clicked around.

"YES!" he barked, then more quietly, "yes.  Now tell me."  And he asked me some basic questions about myself, I assume to verify my identity.  When he confirmed where I worked, he asked in a much more affable tone what I taught.  I knew this trick, too--he was looking for suspicious demeanor.  I told him I taught English to freshmen and seniors--I get them coming and going.

"You've got your hands full, then," he said with a little laugh.

"Final exams are this week," I replied.  "The smell of panic is in the air."

By now, the drill sergeant barkiness had completely left him.  He took my picture, then cheerfully told me that I was all set, and he gave me my traveler's ID number.  It would be valid within 24 hours, in fact, if I wanted to use it quickly, and it was connected to my passport.  And that was that.  The whole interview took about two minutes.

Getting out of the place wasn't nearly as tricky.  I asked the guard at the exit booth how to get back, and he told me in a Stern, Serious voice that I should follow the line of trucks crawling toward a particular road.  They must have classes in being Stern and Serious.  S&S101 or something.  I followed the trucks, sternly and seriously.

And then the drive home.  I survived the Stern and Serious Border Patrol and am now a confirmed, pre-checked traveler!