New York City welcome

Jonn Elledge begins his North American Odyssey in the traditional manner - stuck in a queue waiting

In the immigration hall at New York's Kennedy airport there hangs a picture of a happy, helpful custom official. Beneath it, in large, friendly letters, a caption promises that the US Custom and Border Protection Agency 'pledges to cordially greet and welcome you, and treat you with courtesy, dignity and respect.'

As reassuring as this is, it's of precious little use when you find yourself standing in line for an hour and a half, surrounded by overheated Welsh teenagers, at a time your body insists is 3am.

The reason for the hold up was that the ever helpful Department of Homeland Security now requires every foreigner who enters the US to provide two finger prints, a retinal scan, and a convincing justification for their visit. Doing this 400 times takes a while.

After we'd been waiting 20 minutes, the tannoy crackled and an irritable voice warned us that any mobile phones in use in the queue would be confiscated and destroyed. After 30 minutes, a second voice chided us that our bags were clogging up the carousel, and announced they were about to be dumped on the floor. After 40, another flight landed, the queue doubled and three of the five immigration booths in use were helpfully designated "US Citizens only".

This combination of delays and suspicion is likely to be familiar to anyone who's visited the US in recent years. A 2006 survey ranked the country as the most unfriendly in the world to international travellers, with half of respondents complaining that immigration officials are rude and two-thirds admitting they expected to be detained because they "said the wrong thing". (One friend of mine once made the mistake of wondering aloud what the hold up was. The customs officials sent him to the back of the queue.)

None of this seems to be worrying the authorities too much: there are, after all, more votes in tight security and immigration controls than there are in being nice to foreigners.

But the tourism industry, at least, is starting to fret. The Discover America Partnership, which sponsored the survey, warned it was denting revenues by driving visitors away. Others worry that it will wreck the country's competitive edge. The more unwelcome foreign grad students feel in the US, the more likely they are to stay at home - and the more likely it is the next Google will come from Bangalore rather than Berkeley.

Only after nearly two hours of courteous treatment at the hands of US immigration we were finally allowed to escape the airport and make our way to the hotel we'd booked in Manhattan. This, it turned out, was a former transient hostel with bin bags on the mattresses and a sign on the wall reading 'No spitting.'

Welcome to New York.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.

Getty
Show Hide image

Inside a shaken city: "I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester”

The morning after the bombing of the Manchester Arena has left the city's residents jumpy.

On Tuesday morning, the streets in Manchester city centre were eerily silent.

The commuter hub of Victoria Station - which backs onto the arena - was closed as police combed the area for clues, and despite Mayor Andy Burnham’s line of "business as usual", it looked like people were staying away.

Manchester Arena is the second largest indoor concert venue in Europe. With a capacity crowd of 18,000, on Monday night the venue was packed with young people from around the country - at least 22 of whom will never come home. At around 10.33pm, a suicide bomber detonated his device near the exit. Among the dead was an eight-year-old girl. Many more victims remain in hospital. 

Those Mancunians who were not alerted by the sirens woke to the news of their city's worst terrorist attack. Still, as the day went on, the city’s hubbub soon returned and, by lunchtime, there were shoppers and workers milling around Exchange Square and the town hall.

Tourists snapped images of the Albert Square building in the sunshine, and some even asked police for photographs like any other day.

But throughout the morning there were rumours and speculation about further incidents - the Arndale Centre was closed for a period after 11.40am while swathes of police descended, shutting off the main city centre thoroughfare of Market Street.

Corporation Street - closed off at Exchange Square - was at the centre of the city’s IRA blast. A postbox which survived the 1996 bombing stood in the foreground while officers stood guard, police tape fluttering around cordoned-off spaces.

It’s true that the streets of Manchester have known horror before, but not like this.

I spoke to students Beth and Melissa who were in the bustling centre when they saw people running from two different directions.

They vanished and ducked into River Island, when an alert came over the tannoy, and a staff member herded them through the back door onto the street.

“There were so many police stood outside the Arndale, it was so frightening,” Melissa told me.

“We thought it will be fine, it’ll be safe after last night. There were police everywhere walking in, and we felt like it would be fine.”

Beth said that they had planned a day of shopping, and weren’t put off by the attack.

“We heard about the arena this morning but we decided to come into the city, we were watching it all these morning, but you can’t let this stop you.”

They remembered the 1996 Arndale bombing, but added: “we were too young to really understand”.

And even now they’re older, they still did not really understand what had happened to the city.

“Theres nowhere to go, where’s safe? I just want to go home,” Melissa said. “I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester.”

Manchester has seen this sort of thing before - but so long ago that the stunned city dwellers are at a loss. In a city which feels under siege, no one is quite sure how anyone can keep us safe from an unknown threat

“We saw armed police on the streets - there were loads just then," Melissa said. "I trust them to keep us safe.”

But other observers were less comforted by the sign of firearms.

Ben, who I encountered standing outside an office block on Corporation Street watching the police, was not too forthcoming, except to say “They don’t know what they’re looking for, do they?” as I passed.

The spirit of the city is often invoked, and ahead of a vigil tonight in Albert Square, there will be solidarity and strength from the capital of the North.

But the community values which Mancunians hold dear are shaken to the core by what has happened here.

0800 7318496