1999
Cold, grey and dirty January of 1999.
The thought of leaving simmered in the back of my mind for a very long time ( almost nine years).
The alcohol and drugs made the idea of leaving even more appealing. People going down from opiate overdose made things see even clearer. Time to go!
And then things started to fall into places, someone knew someone who organized trips to the UK with a 100% certainty of getting into the Kingdom.
Some days later I found myself sitting in a comfortable Mercedes with four other strangers looking forward to their future abroad.
Long, sleepy twenty hours drive through Europe and we were on the coast of Calais going through customs of France and the UK.
Throughout the journey, I thought about how our smuggler will make sure that we get into the UK. Just before approaching the Customs and all of us were given £2000 each. ( later he took them back)Our story was that we are going to the UK to buy old LADA cars and we won’t be in the country for more than a week.
The immigration officer didn’t believe our story and sat us in a separate room for interrogation( they call it “interview”). The guys travelling with me didn't speak English at all, only one of the new few words.
One by one we were called in. My turn came two hours later. My English was on a very basic level, I could tell a story of my (made up) life but deeper questions would be lost in my misunderstanding of the meaning.
So there I was a young guy of 25, from a wealthy family of doctors travelling to buy old Ladas. You can sense that this story didn’t “hold the water” and the officer was suspicious and smell the bullshit.
“ I can’t understand why everyone from Lithuania is a son of doctors with a large amount of cash coming to the UK to buy old Ladas, it happens on weekly basis, what kind of country it is, are you all doctors there, driving old LADAs with a huge amount of cash in your pockets?” he asked me. ( that time I didn’t get British sarcasm, very well.)
I just shrugged my shoulders and nodded my head.
“Yes” -I answered.
Back in the room where they kept us the smuggler guy was panicking.
“ Are you running from the Law?” he asked me and the other guy.
“No” was my answer.
“I just don’t want to go back home if I am already in Europe.”
After a few hours, I and the smuggler were called back to the office.
“I have suspicions about you, gentlemen but with the amount of money you have on your hands and your story that you won’t be in the UK for more than a week I must let you in. Good luck.”
A few moments later we were on the Euro tunnel shuttle train to the UK.
I am still here in the UK, almost twenty years later.
