Paying the Piper

There are three main ways to become an American citizen, each one worse than the next: a job, the army, a wife.

And you have to keep at these for a certain number of years in order to be able to apply. In other words, you have to spend five years working, two years shooting people, or three years "happily" married before you can apply.

I've been here in the Northern latitudes for almost six years now. But, because I am here on a student visa, no clocks have started to run. Despite being here for that long legally, including about 116 of the last 120 weeks, it's like I haven't even been here for immigration purposes. All this time counts for nothing, really.

Except I just finished doing my taxes.

And I just learned that, in the United States, tax status is completely independent of immigration status.

As I was filing my taxes, I realized that I no longer qualified for non-resident status. Because I have been in the United States for more than five "tax years," I am now a resident of the United States for tax purposes only.

Which means that I now have to pay for stuff like Medicare and Social Security, even though, assuming I was old enough to use it, I would have no claim because of my immigration status.

So if I'm talking to the INS, I am just here to study and must return immediately to my country of origin as soon as I get my diploma.

But if I'm talking to the IRS, I am supposed to do my civic duty and pay for something that I would not be able to get.

In other words, it's as if America was this really cool club that will let you drink for free from 1 to 2 a.m. if you pay a cover charge. But, because I'm arriving between 11 and midnight, I have to pay that cover charge anyway to the really big and scary bouncer. And when I go to the bar, they tell me I can't drink for free because I don't have the bracelet everyone else has.

"But I paid for it," I say.

"Sorry."

"Can I at least get a drink? I'll pay you right now for a drink."

"Nope. Sorry. In fact," they glance at their watch, "You need to leave now."

"But I don't want to leave. Look. My friends are right there. Nobody really wants me to leave. Plus, I'm pretty fun at a party. I can contribute a lot to this party."

"Rules are rules." They say as they politely but firmly escort me out. "Tell you what, though. If you want, you can look through the window. You can't stay, but you can look through the window at everybody having fun inside."

"And if I try to come in anyway?"

"We're allowed to shoot you."

OK then.

Update: Thanks to Weitz for forwarding this NYT article, which details the experience of a guy who wants to stay and would be useful to the American economy but can't.

Also, please don't burst our (enormous) bubble.