Previously...

He pointed to a section near the bottom where it said:

Health and Character

Have you ever been arrested, charged or convicted of a crime in any country? Individuals who have been convicted of minor traffic violations (such as speeding), or with one (1) drink driving conviction may be eligible to travel on the Visa Waiver Program and can answer "No" to this question. However, if you have been arrested, charged, or convicted with a crime, including offences involving the use of a controlled substance, you must apply for a visa prior to entry and must answer "Yes" to this question.

‘Why did you say no to that question?’

‘Pardon?’

‘We have reason to believe that you were cautioned for theft when you were twelve, is that correct?'

‘Yes, but, that doesn’t count, does it?’

‘Yes it does.’

‘But I was a kid and I was only cautioned. It shouldn’t be counted.’

‘Well Miss, it is counted and you should have applied for a visa before attempting entry to The United States of America.’

‘Blimey.’

And now the story continues…

I looked at him and he looked at me.

‘I’m sorry if I’ve done something wrong...’I started.

The phone rang and the officer frowned. He looked like he enjoyed his job and that the interruption wasn’t welcome.

He picked up the phone.

‘Yes?’

He looked up at me sharply and then spoke to the nameless one at the other end.

‘Why wasn’t we informed–no she hasn’t an adult present–I have no idea where her parents are; I was told–alright!’

He slammed the phone down and muttered an expletive.

‘Stay here,’ he said abruptly and then got up, strode to the door, opened it and then slammed it behind him, making me jump.

As I sat looking at a photo of President Obama on the wall behind the desk, I noticed that his hair was appearing to be going grey.

It must be something to do with his job, I though distractedly.

Then my thoughts returned to my present predicament. It would be nice to have stress free days but it looked like today was going to be like many others for me–full of stress and ‘things’ happening to me. I wondered if my hair would go grey soon. At least I was blond-ish, so the grey wouldn’t be that obvious. Mind you, being a girl, I could always have my roots done or something...

The door opened and Daddy walked in, followed by the immigration officer or whatever he was.

‘Susan, are you all right?’ asked Daddy as I got up and with a squeak, gave him a big hug.

‘Fine Daddy, but I don’t know what’s going on...’

The man coughed and I put Daddy down and turned to him.

‘Sorry, Miss Hurst, a foul up in the paperwork, you are clear to go. Erm, have a nice day.’

He looked embarrassed, red in the face and a little stressed out. I didn’t feel very sorry for him; he had made me feel like a worm. If I was in England, I might have given him a piece of my mind, but as I was in a foreign land where they still executed people (I was a bit vague about the laws but had seen plenty of cable TV) I didn’t want to push my luck, so I simply smiled at him and walked out with my nose slightly in the air.

Danni and Charlotte met us outside and as we walked to the exit, Daddy explained what had happened.

‘They said it was a computer glitch. We had told the authorities about your little problem prior to the flight and why you hadn’t completed the paperwork properly. It was all a bit rushed, but as you were coming as a guest of the USSF, they waived procedure. It appears that the government wants to be seen as encouraging sport in all its forms because of health and weight problems in kids over here. On top of that, they are sensitive to gender issues and what with the elections coming up–well it all meant that the last thing they want is an incident.’

‘How did you get it sorted do quickly?’

‘I just happen to know the UK ambassador …’

‘What … how?’

‘He is a Melchester supporter and I met him a couple of times in hospitality at the club. He is a big fan of yours.’

‘He is?’ I asked, wondering why.

‘Yes, anyway, a quick phone call and he was able to untangle the red tape.’

‘Cool.’

As we walked through the airport, I was struck by the huge numbers of people about. There were places to eat and to be honest I was hungry after the plasticised food that we had attempted to eat on the plane, but Danni, who had been through O’Hare on several occasions said that we should wait a while and eat when we got to the hotel. I was struck by how different everything was from the UK, everything seemed, erm bigger. A huge airport with tons of shops and places to eat and the people all talked like on the telly.

I must admit, the policemen with their guns made me feel uncomfortable and I did wonder if I was going to get mugged or be involved in some sort of firearm incident while in the USA, but I was being silly, it was probably no more dangerous than any other city like, say Melchester. We have areas there where even the pigeons go around in pairs for safety. I stopped worrying about all the crime series that I had seen and went with the flow.

Ten minutes later I found myself in a yellow cab with the others. The streets were busy and I couldn’t get over the traffic, it made the M25 look like it was nearly empty in the rush hour; and they say that New York is worse!

We were heading east to our hotel. From tomorrow we would be staying at the Waldorf Astoria, but for one night we would be going to a place called Lincoln Park and the hotel was called The Drake. It was evidently really sumptuous and was close to the shores of Lake Michigan and there was a beach strangely called Oak Street that we were going to have a look at when we got settled in.

For me it was a bit like sensory overload. I had never really travelled much apart from with the team, and when we played away, it was very much like–go to the hotel get up, go to the match go home, end of story. This was different, I would be seeing some of the sights, visiting schools and local clubs and very much being an ambassador for the sport that I loved.

Today though, we were tired and after all the kafuffle at the airport, I just wanted to put my head down for a few hours and recharge my batteries.

We arrived at the hotel. I had always thought the cabbies were people who couldn’t stop talking, but this one hadn’t said a word to us. Ah well, perhaps it was only New York cabbies that suffer from verbal diarrhoea–another pre-conception shattered!

We were whisked through the check in procedure in the spacious lobby and I was sort of zoned out so I didn’t pay much attention to the details, but I got the impression of the hotel being definitely luxurious.

After going up in a swift and almost silent lift, the bell boy, hop, or whatever the chirpy, cheeky chappie was, led the way, opened one of the doors with a card swipe card, I was in my room.

‘Have a couple of hours break and then we’ll decide what to do,’ said Daddy smiling and leaving me to it.

I was evidently in the Gold Coast Suite and walking over the thick carpet I looked out of the panoramic window and saw that I had terrific views of the lake.

This was LUXURY. The bathroom had more marble than Elgin pinched from Greece, and the Jacuzzi was something that I would have liked to get intimately acquainted with, but I was tired and I just wanted to go to sleep. I went over to the king size bed and sort of flopped. Then I sighed as I wanted to be comfortable and I didn’t think I could sleep dressed as I was in tight jeans and top. I stripped off my clothes and then I realised that I really needed to clean up as I was a bit pongy.

Picking up the complimentary towelling robe that had been laid out for me on the bed, I slipped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet thingie; why they didn’t call it a tap, I would never know but when in Rome … I mean Chicago, etc.

The Jacuzzi was nice but I went a bit overboard with the bubble bath and nearly drowned in a sea of suds. Wishing that I had opted for a shower, I mopped up the mess with a couple of giant soft white towels and then once I had finally cleared up the mess, I could go and have the lie down that I promised myself. I pulled the thick curtains across, took off the complimentary robe with The Drake embroidered in the pocket, went over to my case and picked out a strappy pink satin nightie with matching panties, slipped them on and then with a sigh, went to bed for a couple of zzz’s.

I was just drifting off, when my iPhone bleeped at me.

Mumbling a couple of expletives, I blearily looked at my phone. It was a text from Andrea.

R u there yet?

Yes , I texted back.

wotsit like?

cool

missing u

me 2 u.call you l8r, jet lacked, tired, want sleep

ok, bye xxx

bye xxx

I put the phone in airplane mode, put it on the bedside table and then sighed as my head hit the soft pillow.

Seconds later I nearly jumped out of my skin when the bedside phone went.

‘What?’ I said rather more forcible than genteel.

‘Hello Miss, this is Marco the concierge, is everything to your satisfaction?’

‘Erm yes, thanks.’

‘Please do not hesitate to contact me if there is anything you require.’

‘I won’t, I mean I will.’

‘Have a nice day.’

‘You too,’ I replied and put the phone down.

I lay my head down again and then as an afterthought, I unplugged the phone. I was not going to be disturbed, I needed my beauty sleep and nothing was going to stop me.

However, even though there were thick curtains on the window, light was still coming through, as it was a strong sunny day outside. I couldn’t settle.

Then I remembered something that I saw in the bathroom. With a sigh, I got up and padded into the bathroom. I should have put on the complimentary slippers and the cold marble floor made me wince a bit. Anyway, I didn’t waste much time. Among the various assorted things on the shelf like mini-soaps, shower cream and shampoo in small bottles, were a couple of sleep masks, I grabbed one and went back to bed. After scrunchifying my long hair and sliding under the covers I put on the silky soft mask and all light was cut out. I sighed contentedly and then drifted off to sleep.

I was in a deep sleep dreaming about Andrea and the Jacuzzi and some fun things we were doing under the suds when I was aware of some pounding noises. I opened my eyes and for a brief moment, I wondered if I was blind and then remembered the sleep mask. I took it off and blinked in the light.

There it was again, that pounding noise. There was somebody at the door.

I yawned, got up and walked over. Looking through the spy-hole thingie I could see a weird swollen face in the viewer. I vaguely recognised the face and yawning and scratching my bottom–not ladylike, but what the hell–I opened the door.

‘’Hi Danni,’ I said and then nearly broke my jaw with another big whopper of a yawn.

‘You aren’t answering your mobile and the phone in the room doesn’t appear to be working.’

‘I know, I wanted peace and quiet and people would keep ringing me.’

‘You had us worried.’

‘Well don’t be, I just want a little nap and then we can go sight see or whatever.’

‘You have been in there for nearly three hours.’

‘What? You are kidding me!’

‘Nope,’

‘Blimey!’

The next day we arrived in good time at the one hundred and eighty-eight room, five star Waldorf Astoria Hotel. I was in awe of the place and I didn’t want to ask the price of my room which was as large, if not larger than the one I’d occupied at The Drake. I could almost play a game of football in there...

The hotel itself was stunning, from the cobblestone driveway to the artwork in the towering lobby. My suite was unlike any other that I had ever stayed at. There was a great living area with a fireplace, a balcony overlooking the Chicago skyline, comfortable soft furniture, and an LCD TV. The bedroom had the highest quality linens imaginable, and a bathroom that words cannot adequately describe but awesome fantastic, well-bad, cool and neat might give you an indication. The deep soaking tub was amazing and the shower area was so large that you felt that you were in an elegant spa. There was even a LCD TV in the bathroom mirror. We must get one for our bathroom...

America was fun. I was able to let my hair down a bit and enjoy myself. I visited school after school and tried to give the kids an idea of what it was like playing football in the UK. I couldn’t get over the levels of security in a few of the schools in rundown areas. Barbed wire covered walls and fencing everywhere, security cameras and guards prowling about looking massive and menacing. I was surprised that they didn’t go for moats with deadly crocs and drawbridges. I wasn’t too sure if all the security was to keep the children in or stop people from attacking the schools.

Anyway, the kids were not too dissimilar to those in the UK but baseball, basketball and American Football ruled. However, soccer was getting more and more popular and I saw many teams play and the level was excellent.

These kids were serious about their football and the skills shown by them would mean that the future of the sport in the USA would be assured.

As I was still a bit crocked, I wasn’t allowed to play, but my feet were itching just watching them. What got me was that a lot of people knew who I was and I was considered a sort of minor celebrity. UK matches were aired on there on cable TV and there was a quite strong support for Melchester. Football or soccer as they liked to call it was now global, and the thought of a woman playing in a predominantly male sport seemed to press the right buttons for our American friends.

I got a bit embarrassed sometimes when children came up to me and asked for an autograph. I didn’t realise how well known I was in the States. However, outside of football, I wasn’t recognised, which was nice as I could go shopping, and I loved shopping!

Mind you, I never went anywhere, cos and my faithful bodyguard/security gals were ever present, as was Daddy, who for some reason didn’t trust me on my own. Sometimes being a teen can be a right drag!

I went on several TV and radio talk programs and had a blast. (I had long ago gotten over my shyness in front of cameras and microphones), and it was great to get a different perspective on life. What was important in the UK had little impact on America. You could say that they were insular, but no more than we are. One thing that did strike me was how patriotic they were. In the schools I went to there were U.S flags everywhere and all the children stood and recited the Pledge of Allegiance at the beginning of the day.

I couldn’t imagine something like that in the UK and the displaying of Union Jacks on private buildings is somewhat frowned upon due to the fact that is considered to be politically sensitive.

I remember one TV interview in particular …

He was one of those interviewers that looked almost too perfect. He looked about 30 but I think that he was considerably older. I wondered if he had had a face lift, and that hair of his was not a natural colour. His teeth were too white and looked a bit too perfect. Still that wasn’t what was bothering me; it was the slightly condescending tone of his questions.

‘Well Susan, don’t you find playing soccer with men intimidating?’

‘Not really. I am there to do a job and my manager has picked me because he feels that I am good enough to play.’

‘But you are a girl?’

‘That’s very perceptive of you, and your point?’

‘Well. It must feel uncomfortable playing with all those men.’

‘Why?’

‘’They are bigger than you...’

‘Not all of them.’

‘They have more muscles?’

‘So you need big beefy muscles to play football do you? I must tell my manager he shouldn’t keep picking me because I don’t have the required amount of muscle.’

‘I didn’t mean to upset you …’

‘I’m not upset. It’s your sort of mentality that tries to keep women down and not allow them to flourish in what still a world is dominated by the weaker sex.’

‘Weaker sex?’

‘Yes–men.’

That got a laugh from most of the females and even some of the men in the audience. The interviewer then turned to less controversial issues and we finished the interview without bloodshed. Mind you, he didn’t even say goodbye to me. I wonder if it was something I said?

Nobody walked in Chicago more than a few hundred yards without calling a cab, or so it seemed. However we bucked the trend and went to all the touristy type sights including the mega-awesome John Hancock Centre. The views were fantastic, especially as you could see a large chunk of Lake Michigan. They say that you can see across to Canada on a good day, but it was a bit misty so we didn’t see as far as that.

We also went up the Willis Tower, but I didn’t much like the crowds and queues for the lift (they even had TV’s in the lift, cos of the time it took to get to the top). Mind you, that is a seriously tall building! ( 442 Meters)

I was snap happy and my cool iPhone ran hot with the amount of piccies I was taking. I did wonder how much my phone bill would be as I continually phoned and texted home, time differences permitting. Andrea and Claire were green with envy, poor lambs, but there was talk about all of us coming back in the summer for an extended holiday, so they were mollified–a bit.

The whole trip seemed to go at breakneck speed and it was the final full day and it was going to be a bit special. We were going to see a match between Chicago Fire Soccer Club and Philadelphia Union.

It was a great stadium and nearly full of twenty thousand eager, flag waving fans. I was there at the invitation of the club and the ASSF. I was led onto the pitch and introduced to the crowd who gave me some nice applause.

The game was tight and in the last minute, Chicago scored a goal and won 1-0. It was a good tight game and I really enjoyed it. After the game I met most of the players and they seemed a nice bunch. It was intimated that if I got fed up with English football, I would be welcomed with open arms!

The last night, we all got glammed up and went to a swanky restaurant. I had bought a horrendously expensive LBD and I should have felt guilty, but I didn’t. It was a Gianni Versacé black, above the knee dress in heavy duchess satin. There were Versacé engraved metal details on the straps, it fitted me like a glove and although I say so myself, I looked quite pretty in it.

I had spent a lot of time getting ready and used the hotel’s special room service and booked a beautician for my makeup and their stylist to do something different with my hair.

The results were fantastic; the dress, black heels, sheer black nylons together with the hair and flawless makeup all combined to make me feel a bit special. In fact I didn’t look like me at all! I looked a bit older and maybe more sophisticated and when Daddy saw me, his jaw dropped to the floor. Then he insisted that I had my photos taken and he sent them over his phone to Mummy, Andrea and Claire and even to my Auntie Chris up in bonny Scotland.

The restaurant we went to was the Alinea; it was reputed to be one of the top restaurants in Chicago. Once again, our hosts had pulled out all the stops as reservations were as hard to get as Lancashire hotpot in the States.

We dined in style. Daddy looked nice in his suit and Danni and Charlotte looked lovely and sophisticated in their dresses.

I lost count after the fifth course. Each course had a small amount on the plate, but that was the idea, a taste of this, that and then something else. Being too young, I had to make do with cola, Daddy had half a bottle of wine and the girls, as they weren’t able to drink alcohol, had some sort of non-alcoholic cocktail.

Coming back to the food, at the end I was glad that I just went for the 12 courses rather than the 24...

‘Have you had a nice time?’ asked Daddy in the lull between the courses. He went for the 24 courses, the piggy, and was starting to look uncomfortable.

‘It’s been great. I don’t know where to start. The people are so friendly, and the place is ace. The food is great and the hotel, wow, it’s awesome.’

‘Would you come back?’

‘Oh yes, and I would like more time. It’s been a bit Izzy Wizzy let’s get busy. I said to Claire and Andrea that we should come back in the summer.’

‘Yes, it would be nice to do it at a more leisurely pace.’

After we finished the meal, we went for a walk along the front and then Grant Park. It was lovely after dark with its winding paths and floral gardens. Then we went on to Millennium Park to view the colourful Crown Fountain and the Cloud Gate, fondly known as "The Bean".

All too soon it was over and we went back to the hotel for the last time. The following morning we would be leaving Chicago and heading home.

My leg was a lot better now, helped by some excellent massage at the hotel. I would be returning to training and that was something I didn’t fancy. After a layoff, I found it hard to get back into the swing of things, but that was my job and someone had to do it!

As the plane went up, I looked down at Chicago and smiled. I would be back sometime, hopefully soon.

My thanks go to the lovely and talented Holly Hart for editing, and pulling the story into shape.

Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue

If you are enjoying this story, The original Penmarris story - Changes Book 1 is now available on Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006NZFWG8 (US)
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Changes-ebook/dp/B006NZFWG8/ref=sr_1... (UK)