From Russia to the U.S.: A One-Way Journey of Courage

Alex had left, and for the first time, I seriously began contemplating how I could make my way to the United States. About a year ago, I left Russia, embarking on a nomadic journey across various countries, afraid to return home because of my LGBTQ+ identity. That, however, is a story for another day. My hope was to secure some form of European documentation that would eventually allow me to apply for a U.S. visa.

I put my trust in someone who promised to help with this plan, but nothing came of it. Meanwhile, my Schengen visa expired in August, leaving me stranded in Europe without any valid documents, clinging to the faint hope that the situation would somehow resolve. In hindsight, I should have taken matters into my own hands sooner—but I eventually did.

Realizing that legalization in Europe wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, I researched my options and discovered the possibility of seeking political asylum in the United States. After much deliberation, I made the pivotal decision in October to travel to the U.S. via Mexico.

This was no small decision. I carefully considered every angle, consulted with everyone I could—family, friends, and even the invisible forces guiding us (yes, I know this might attract some skeptics, but we’ll get into esotericism another time). The answer I received was unequivocal: “Go.”

It was a one-way ticket. Returning to Europe wasn’t an option with my expired visa, and Russia held no future for me. I knew the risks and planned for the possibility of being denied entry into Mexico—a common occurrence for Russians whose intentions were suspected of involving a border crossing. While Russians don’t need a visa for Mexico, they do require an electronic travel authorization, which is easy to obtain online. I secured mine, but the final decision on whether to admit me rested with immigration officers upon arrival.

If denied, my backup plan was straightforward: fly to the nearest Central American country that didn’t require a visa, wait it out, and try again.

I decided to fly after my birthday on November 1. I found the cheapest direct flight from Amsterdam to Mexico City on November 8, 2023. Initially, I hesitated—filling out all my details only to close my laptop without completing the payment. That evening, however, I mustered the courage to buy the ticket. My hands shook as I clicked “pay,” fully aware of how monumental this moment was for me.

After booking the flight, I told Alex. He called several times afterward, and we talked for hours. I thought everything was perfect—I was genuinely happy. Only later did I realize the true reason behind these long conversations. Each time he called, he was high on cocaine, alone in his office at night while everyone else had gone home. With the time difference, night in L.A. coincided with daytime in Europe, so he called me simply to have someone to talk to.

Back in Prague, I began preparing for my departure. I arranged for a friend to drive me to the airport in Amsterdam. Flying within the Schengen Zone without valid documents was too risky, even though internal flights are not always strictly monitored.

Finally, the day arrived—November 8. I was one of the first to check in for my flight, hoping to get through passport control as quickly as possible. I knew there would be delays due to my expired visa and anticipated being banned from entering the Schengen Zone for some time. Sure enough, at passport control, I was stopped and asked to step aside. I calmly explained the situation and acknowledged the consequences.

After about an hour, during which my fingerprints were taken, my photo was snapped, and I signed documents confirming a one-year ban from the Schengen Zone, they let me go.

The 12-hour flight landed me in Mexico. Passport control was next, and the lines were long. When my turn finally came, I approached the officer confidently, masking any trace of nerves. I had everything prepared—outbound tickets to some Central American country from Mexico City in five days, hotel bookings, and a convincing tourist itinerary.

The officer bombarded me with questions: Where are you staying? What do you do for work? How much luggage and money do you have? What places are you planning to visit in Mexico City? In the end, they stamped my passport with a one-week visa.

With that, my priority became reaching Tijuana, where I planned to cross the border. But first, I needed to rest after the exhausting flight and strategize my next steps.

The first order of business was registering with the CBP One program—a system for immigrants that assigns an appointment date for crossing the border. This could only be done while physically in Mexico, specifically in its central or northern regions. However, the waiting list was overwhelming, with far more applicants than slots. Each day, you had to submit a new request and hope to be among the randomly selected.

Although I started to panic, I focused on taking one step at a time. My first priority was getting to Tijuana. I had assumed that the hardest part was over since I was already in Mexico, but I soon learned otherwise. Even domestic flights to Tijuana carried the risk of being turned away and deported.

To minimize suspicion, I spent two nights in Mexico City before flying to Tijuana with a layover in another city—it was cheaper that way.

Arriving in Tijuana, I felt a wave of relief as I approached the baggage claim area, thinking I had dodged any further scrutiny. But no—the real checkpoint was ahead, where an officer stopped me. “Russian? Passport, please. This will only take a few minutes,” he said.

The waiting area was packed, and I braced myself for hours of waiting. I began mentally crafting a story to justify my presence in Tijuana while simultaneously searching for alternative flight options in case I was sent back.

But within five minutes, the officer returned my passport with a smile and a thumbs-up. His stern demeanor had vanished, and his sudden friendliness caught me off guard, prompting an internal joke: “What, did you find my porn?”

I retrieved my luggage and headed to my hotel, relieved to have completed the first leg of this challenging journey.