British customs hates me and probably a lot of other people

Now that I have successfully navigated the gut-punch that is international travel, and I find myself safely tucked away in Oregon for a few weeks before school starts, I thought I would get my lingering animosities out of my system.  Namely, an enormous middle finger goes to British customs. British customs can suck it. Here’s the thing.  This was my fourth time through customs at Heathrow.  The first time I was so ill-prepared it was laughable.  They dinged me as a terrorist because I didn’t have a full address for the dorm I was visiting, and they frisked me and went through my stuff three days later when I left the country. Sure, my fault. But I learned my lesson, and now I travel with a document folder that contains just about anything they could possibly ask for.  Proof of address in the states, full itineraries for travel, all locations I’m housing at, letters of introduction from my university, proof

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