Something which Lynne posted reminded me of my first trip to USA.

I was travelling alone, in my early twenties and going to New York. After disembarking I joined a queue at immigration and waited. And waited. Eventually I got to the front of the queue, handed over my passport and visa and the woman behind the desk asked “moustache?” On my passport photo I had a moustache, but had since shaved it off. “When did you shave it off?” she asked. “I don’t know, maybe a couple of years ago” I replied. She looked into my eyes and snarled “go to the back of the queue and think about it”. A policeman was standing close listening to this so I turned to him, he just shrugged and moved me out of the queue. I queued again. An hour later I was at the desk again. “So” she said, “have you thought when the moustache came off?” “Yes” I lied, I shaved it off two years ago”. She stamped my papers and told me to sit by an office, “we’d like to ask you some questions” she said, and kept my passport. I waited for three hours, constantly asking officials what was happening, nobody could tell me. Eventually the woman who had held back my passport got up from her desk and was replaced by somebody else, it appeared her shift was finished. She came over to me, took my passport from her pocket and told me I could now go. I stopped a policeman and asked him where I go to complain about the way I’d been treated. His advice was “if I were you I’d get out of here while you still can.” As I turned to walk away he shouted “oh, and welcome to America, the greatest country in the world!”