(24 May–3 June 2018; hayfestival.com)
I once flew to Brazil with Ed (husband) to write a travel article. When I arrived, I was refused entry because I had no visa and they hated Americans. (America wasn’t letting many Brazilians in at the time.)
I screamed in rage that I would sue all of Brazil and was manhandled into a room and told they were exporting me to Argentina where they might or might not give me a visa. Ed, being British, was whisked past passport control. They refused to give me my suitcase but allowed me to take out a toothbrush and a pair of underwear before I was flown out. When I got to Argentina, I was refused a visa to anywhere. I went into rant mode again, telling them I would sue Argentina. And it worked like magic – I was thrown out of the visa office. I then hitched to the American embassy only to find a queue of Americans a mile long also trying for visas. I pretended to have a heart attack, which sort of worked: I was taken to the airport and flown back to the UK. Ed had a wonderful holiday in Brazil.
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