The long immigration queues at the Los Angeles International Airport remind me of the queues at the New Delhi railway station booking counter at the start of the summer vacation. The first thing that hits me is the amazing number of non-Caucasian people around. The Hispanic janitor, the Asian immigration officer who eyes us suspiciously, the black customs officer who sits bored at his desk, and finally the native American employee of the department of agriculture. He asks us cursorily if we are bringing in any live animals and then laughs when I point towards my 12-year-old son! At least at the airport, it is hard to find a white American, excepting among the passengers.
