The eagle has landed. I repeat. The eagle has landed. But they didn't want to let him in. When I arrived at the NY airport on March 14th, the officer at the passport control asked for the document proving my eligibility of work. I didn't expect that; I was under the false impression that showing him the visa would be enough, so I had the document somewhere in my luggage, which was waiting for me somewhere far, far away. The officer said he had to sign the document, and couldn't let me in otherwise, so I already saw myself living on the airport and asking strangers for some change like Tom Hanks in "Terminal". Luckily I greeted the officer nicely before and didn't look particularly Mexican so he just believed my stories and let me in without seeing the document. Phew. What a way to start this chapter of my life, my heart was beating like crazy: that was a close call.
Then, on the way into the city, I slowly calmed down and started to feel like coming home. From the noises to the smell: everything in the subway seemed familiar. "Stay clear of the closing door" probably never had such a relaxing effect on anyone before. And the fact that I didn't have to look on the map to figure out my subway lines and where to change the train showed the few tourists who dared to take the subway: this guy is a New Yorker. Finally.