Originally Posted by mrpink

Right, it's about time I sat down and related my experience of getting my K1 visa in London. I've been writing a detailed report in a little notebook, and so far I've filled eleven pages of scribble and I've only gotten as far as the meal at Pizza Hut the night before the interview date. Hmm, maybe a little *less* detail would be in order here!

The journey up to London was made interesting by spectacular railway delays, and the capitol's commuters were having a bad day. My trip went reasonably smoothly, but by the time I made it to Marble Arch I was, um... well let's say I warm and weary for now...

I'd booked a room at the Bryanston Court hotel (http://www.bryanston.activehotels.com/ ) as soon as I'd been notified of the interview date, and by the time I'd walked up to the hotel door I was shattered, but rather pleased to see that the walk to Dr. Phelan's office was going to take me around about 7 seconds (and that's allowing 4 seconds to admire the scenery along the way). The room was comfortable but plain, but I think it was money well spent. After a handful of phonecalls and a quick freshen up I set out to rehearse my walk from the Doctor's office to the Embassy. Nine minutes later I was there. You can't miss it really, it's the big building with the stars and stripes flying from the roof, surrounded by concrete barriers, eight foot metal fences and policemen with machine guns. I chatted to one of them for a few minutes, and felt reassured by the fact that they didn't try to kill me. Gotta love the British Police!
Back to the hotel, and a transatlantic call to an anxious fiancee, until yours truly was all tucked up snug for his beauty sleep.

No time for breakfast at the hotel, they don't start serving 'til 7:30 and I wanted to be up and out of there before then. There's a McDonalds just a couple of minutes away and I filled up there, knowing I would be a long time without food that day.

I arrived outside The Good Doctor's abode at 7:30, third in the line, and with no sign of the door opening. So we stood and waited in the dark, and the dozen or so people waiting by 8:00 all trooped into the waiting room and plopped down onto the seats. A receptionist gave us all pink plastic folders in which we were asked to put our passport, a photograph, the completed and signed medical questionaire, and any other relevant medical documents. This we did, and one by one we were called back to reception. I was 5th to be called.

At reception they asked me for the fee, which I paid in cash, and also to sign my name *across the photograph*, for some reason. Our files were now transferred into a green folder and we were sent downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs there's a clear plastic box on the wall, and we all put our green folders in there and waited to be called once more. Just to one side of the downstairs waiting room is a short corridor to the bathroom. It seems that everyone who has had cause to visit this convenience has found it quite unusual, but I have to say that I was completely shocked! Not gonna say any more on that, you'll have that delight to look forward to when you get there!

The first step was to be steered into a little cubicle for blood to be taken. This was done in seconds, painless and efficient. Back to the waiting room. Next came the X-ray, and I was told to step into a tiny cubicle a bit like a clothes store changing room, and "remove everything from chin to waist, and stop at the skin please". The world's cheeriest X-ray dude rushed us through his process, and suddenly I was back in the cubicle, still shirtless. There must have been perhaps half a dozen little cubicles off of the short corridor, and behind each set of louvred doors stood a visa applicant stripped from the waist up. I had visions of a bell sounding and all the doors opening at once, and everyone racing to the finishing post on the other side of the corridor. Very odd.

Dr. Phelan himself is a genial host, and quickly rushed through the medical checking blood pressure, ears, eyes, throat, tapping the chest as doctors do, and some quizzing about my medical history. The only time my internal alarm bells rang was when he asked me to unzip my trousers so he could have a peek... The cheek, he didn't even buy me dinner first! He did comment on the Stars and Stripes boxer shorts though, and laughingly agreed that yes, he really did see *lots* of applicants in similar apparel! Suddenly the door was opened and I was ushered out, with a rolled up chest X-ray under my arm, and instructions to take it in my hand luggage and present it at the POE. Now onto the consulate! One word of warning here though - whoever is last to leave the office gets to play courier and carry everybodys medical results to the embassy, but has to wait until the doctor's staff have got them all organised and labelled. This can delay you by at least an hour. There's nothing you can do about this, but do be warned... On the way I grabbed another opportunity to wake SG at some ungodly hour and bellow into my phone over the noise of the London traffic!

My invitation letter got me past the first bit of security, which was just like an airport security point with an X-ray for the baggage and a metal-detecting doorway to walk through. Up the steps, in through the front door, and explain to the lady behind the desk why I was there. She took my mobile phone from me and gave me a ticket to reclaim it, and ushered me up the stairs to my right, and into a very humid room. This was the immigrant visa department, and as far as I could see it consisted of 6 counters (very high!) and a hundred or so plastic chairs facing them, arranged like a very cheap cinema. I presented myself to the officer at the first desk, and he took my invitation letter and asked me to sit down for about an hour.

When I was called up to the counter I was asked for my passport, my police certificate, birth certificate, a photo, marriage license and divorce decree from previous marriage, plus photocopies of all the paper documents. Finally he asked for the Affidavit of Support, which certainly seemed to surprise him. Our affidavit was about an inch thick, and he looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "um, yeah, well we're thorough..." He grinned and asked me to take a seat again.

About 15 minutes later I was called to desk 6, which is down the end of the line and screened slightly by a petition. The chap on the other side had a smiling friendly air to him, just perfect for putting people at ease and catching them when they lower their guard. Clever. He was looking through all my paperwork as I stood there, and shot a handful of questions at me in a chatty, not-particularly-interested kind of way. As far as I can remember he spake thusly -

"so, you're marrying an American citizen then, excellent.... How did you meet?

How long have you known her?

Do you have a place to stay when you get there?

Does she own this place, or is it rented or something?

What does she do for a living?

Have you set a wedding date?

Where will you be getting married?

Do you have a job lined up out there?"

Then he seemed to remember something quite important, and said "Oh, I should have sworn you in"!

Raised right hand, and swore an oath that I can't quite remember word for word but was something along the lines of "I'm not lying, those docs aren't fake, and I'm a good boy honest". Then came the part he seemed to enjoy the most.... "So, are you ready for the moment of truth???"

(gulp)

He slid one piece of paper across the desk to me... one of the ones I'd filled in and returned with the Packet 3 documents. I had to write my beloved's name next to where it said "and I am free to marry ___________" and then sign below it. There was a satisfying thunk of a rubber stamp, and that was it, all approved! We were both grinning like idiots and reached over and shook my hand and said Congratulations, and I thanked him profusely. All that time of waiting, the cursing and swearing at NSC, the endless pieces of paper, and it was all done!

He told me to come back at 12:30 to collect my visa, and that I needn't go through security or wait in line, just to come right in and collect it. Time to phone SG again, who was doing a good job of staying alert and supportive despite total sleep deprivation. I walked out through the gardens next door and found a place for a cheap meal, and got back at around 12:15, only to find that they'd called my name out five minutes earlier! Not a problem though... I just walked up to the nearest free counter and the officer gave me my passport back, with the K1 visa filling the whole of the page, my photo printed on the page and surrounded by colourful sparkly ink! Oh what a moment that was! He gave me my vaccination checklist, a small printed word of advice about the K1 visa, printed in 1999 and quite out of date, and the famous big brown envelope (which is actually yellow, and covered in sticky tape). Finally I was free to go, and face the long walk back to the hotel to collect my overnight bag, and then on to the station and finally home, by which time I was just shattered. What a day... Oh, and another call to my beautiful fiancee, who was beside me every step of the way and without whose help and support I wouldn't be where I am today. Honey, I love you.

Mr Pink

Originally Posted by HunterGreen

Dude! I saw this post with lots of replies and it wasn't here 10 hours ago... I thought you guys had gone visited the UK and either something really cool or really horrible had happened... LOL! Thanks, Marzzz

Elaine

Originally Posted by mrpink

The only time my internal alarm bells rang was when he asked me to unzip my trousers so he could have a peek... The cheek, he didn't even buy me dinner first! He did comment on the Stars and Stripes boxer shorts though, and laughingly agreed that yes, he really did see *lots* of applicants in similar apparel!

Originally Posted by mrpink

The first step was to be steered into a little cubicle for blood to be taken. This was done in seconds, painless and efficient. Back to the waiting room. Next came the X-ray, and I was told to step into a tiny cubicle a bit like a clothes store changing room, and "remove everything from chin to waist, and stop at the skin please". The world's cheeriest X-ray dude rushed us through his process, and suddenly I was back in the cubicle, still shirtless. There must have been perhaps half a dozen little cubicles off of the short corridor, and behind each set of louvred doors stood a visa applicant stripped from the waist up. I had visions of a bell sounding and all the doors opening at once, and everyone racing to the finishing post on the other side of the corridor. Very odd.

Originally Posted by HunterGreen

Dude! I saw this post with lots of replies and it wasn't here 10 hours ago... I thought you guys had gone visited the UK and either something really cool or really horrible had happened... LOL! Thanks, Marzzz

Elaine