“Maybe they’ll have ‘La La Land’ on the in-flight entertainment,” Abdullah said on Saturday a few hours before he was set to leave Jordan on a plane bound for Los Angeles.
“If you don’t like it,” I joked, “don’t tell anyone. They won’t let you into America.”
“So many rules,” he said, laughing to ease his nerves. “I can’t keep up.”
It was true, the part about so many rules. The fate of Abdullah’s trip, and his future as a student in the U.S., was changing by the hour thanks to the confusion sown by President Trump’s executive order on travel and the multiple rulings against it.
Abdullah Al-Rifaie, 19, has lived in Southern California for the last year and a half, attending classes on a student visa. He left Los Angeles in December on winter break to renew his visa — to follow the rules. But in the few weeks it took for him to successfully get his paperwork processed in Jordan, Trump signed the executive order restricting travel from seven majority-Muslim countries, including the one that issued Abdullah’s passport, Iraq.
Abdullah missed Metallica by two days when he left for Amman, Jordan, to get his student visa renewed.
My nephew, or at least that’s what I call the 19-year-old son of my cousin, debated before he left California in December about whether to stay the extra couple days in Los Angeles to see his...
Abdullah missed Metallica by two days when he left for Amman, Jordan, to get his student visa renewed.
My nephew, or at least that’s what I call the 19-year-old son of my cousin, debated before he left California in December about whether to stay the extra couple days in Los Angeles to see his...
The order had an immediate effect on the travel plans of Abdullah and many far more desperate than him — refugees and asylum seekers whose lives were in danger in their home countries.
My sisters, my mom and an attorney who offered her services pro bono when she heard of Abdullah’s plight tried to keep abreast of the rapidly changing news.
On Thursday, the situation looked bad. He should stay in Jordan for now, the lawyer advised.
On Friday: Good news. A Boston judge issued a temporary restraining order against the travel ban. Visa holders from other countries on the list — Iran, Yemen — are getting in, we’re told, he should get here now while he can!
But later on Friday, things had changed again. Hold up, Abdullah was told. Valid visa holders are still being detained at U.S. airports and sent back to where they came from. Stay put.
This cycle of hope and doom, hope and doom, repeated itself in what seemed like a prolonged and cruel game of emotional ping pong. Even if Abdullah had gone to the airport, there was a slim-to-zero chance the airline would let him on a U.S.-bound plane. Footage of Yemeni and Syrian nationals stranded at airports all over the world told us as much.
“I’m going to miss school,” he said last week when things looked their most grim. “Do you think I should start applying to study in England or Canada? I’ll have to start all over again.”
And then there was the Metallica factor.
Ice Cube yelled obscenities from the stage. Drunken, shirtless dudes were cavorting in the beer gardens. Young women roamed the fields in various stages of undress.
Had I made a huge mistake bringing Abdullah to Coachella?
Born in Iraq, Abdullah Al-Rifaie is my cousin's son and the first of my...
Ice Cube yelled obscenities from the stage. Drunken, shirtless dudes were cavorting in the beer gardens. Young women roamed the fields in various stages of undress.
Had I made a huge mistake bringing Abdullah to Coachella?
Born in Iraq, Abdullah Al-Rifaie is my cousin's son and the first of my...
My pop-culture-obsessed nephew had already missed seeing his favorite metal band by two days when he left in December and, if the ban held, he’d miss them again when they play L.A. next week. “It’s like someone’s trying to keep us apart,” he said.
Early Saturday morning it looked as if the most recent restraining order on the travel ban was being honored at most U.S. airports. Abdullah decided to fly in on the return ticket to LAX he’d booked almost a year ago.
His lawyer advised him to keep in touch with her every leg of the flight. Once he landed, she instructed him to not sign anything other than the routine customs form. “And if you’re detained for questioning, be cooperative and polite,” she said, “but tell them you also have a lawyer waiting outside at the arrival gate.”
As my family, the lawyer and some dedicated friends stood at the international arrival gate at LAX, we overheard an immigration attorney explaining to an Iranian man near us that the woman he was waiting for, a student-visa holder, had been pulled for a secondary interview.
What if Abdullah was detained by customs border agents, or denied entry altogether and sent back?
My sister said she felt like she was going to throw up. My other sister said she should aim the other way because she wasn’t about to repeat the same gross scenario that happened in the family station wagon when they were kids. My mom was too preoccupied scanning the arriving travelers to notice her girls were squabbling, again.
The lawyer warned us that Abdullah would likely be detained as well, but we just had to be patient. We’d be there a while.
But there were signs of hope. One traveler emerged to a greeting of cameras and well-wishers holding balloons and welcome-home signs.
I suddenly realized, we had no signs or balloons.
At a nearby folding table set up as a makeshift office by volunteer immigration lawyers, I borrowed a Sharpie pen and paper to scrawl out a sign: “Abdullah. Metallica Rules! Welcome back.”
Within the hour, he miraculously appeared.
For the first time since I’ve known him, my young and easygoing nephew appeared worn and nervous. He was sweating and poker faced when he walked out the automatic doors and up the ramp with his luggage. It wasn’t until he saw us in the crowd that he seemed to realize the ordeal was over.
Screams and tears and hugs, cheers from strangers, cameras flashing, reporters asking questions. He’d made it through, no questions asked. The months of vetting he’d gone through to get his American visa apparently meant something again.
When we were finally outside and walking to the car, he exhaled.
“Oh my God,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m finally here.”
It was then he unzipped his sweat jacket, revealing the image on his T-shirt: Johnny Cash flipping the bird.
“Dude!” my husband said. “What if they’d pulled you into secondary questioning, and asked you to take off your jacket. What would you say?”
“Oh, I didn’t even think about that,” Abdullah said. Oh, to be 19.
“I guess I would just tell them the truth,” he said at last. “I’m a huge Johnny Cash fan.”
The young women in "Step" demonstrate a routine at the L.A. Times photo studio during the Sundance Film Festival. The documentary is about senior girls in a Baltimore high school step team as they prepare to be the first in their families to attend college.
The young women in "Step" demonstrate a routine at the L.A. Times photo studio during the Sundance Film Festival. The documentary is about senior girls in a Baltimore high school step team as they prepare to be the first in their families to attend college.
The young women in "Step" demonstrate a routine at the L.A. Times photo studio during the Sundance Film Festival. The documentary is about senior girls in a Baltimore high school step team as they prepare to be the first in their families to attend college.
The young women in "Step" demonstrate a routine at the L.A. Times photo studio during the Sundance Film Festival. The documentary is about senior girls in a Baltimore high school step team as they prepare to be the first in their families to attend college.
Chelsea Handler says women should not have to fight for their rights all over again.
Chelsea Handler says women should not have to fight for their rights all over again.
SAG Awards statuettes are cast from molten bronze metal at American Fine Arts Foundry in Burbank. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
SAG Awards statuettes are cast from molten bronze metal at American Fine Arts Foundry in Burbank. (Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
Kristen Stewart enjoyed the free-form aspect of making her short film, "Come Swim" which is showing at the Sundance Film Festival. She doesn't see that as a directorial stepping-stone to full-length features.
Kristen Stewart enjoyed the free-form aspect of making her short film, "Come Swim" which is showing at the Sundance Film Festival. She doesn't see that as a directorial stepping-stone to full-length features.
Kristen Bell and director Liz W. Garcia discuss the film "Lifeguard" at Sundance.
Kristen Bell and director Liz W. Garcia discuss the film "Lifeguard" at Sundance.
lorraine.ali@latimes.com
@lorraineali
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