I had to go up to town for a meeting with my legal team. I wanted to check everything was in order, and that I could have a slippery-smooth exit, with no falling foul of government bureaucrats. It is just as well I took the trouble, because there was, indeed, a severe flaw in my plans. But, with the proper professional advice, it was soon put to rights: my I979A now nestles in my passport in place of the I94, waiting to confound the aparachik. Another one in the eye for mere government.
By the way, I discovered, and it is not surprising with lawyers involved, that there is such a thing as a free lunch. Their ethics do not permit them to accept gifts from clients, so they had to buy lunch. It was in one of St Paul's finest old Italian restaurants, full of Godfather figures, cheeks stuffed with cotton wool, making that curious back-handed waving gesture. I suppose any (or, indeed, all) of them might nowadays have been Justice Department stooges, waiiting to pounce on an unethical lawyer.
I bet you didn't know there's a special rule that allows Lenten fasters to eat masses of Italian food in Holy Week in towns with a saint's name.