German Immigration is Pleasant

Unlike our U.S. Immigration halls, the Germans have somehow managed to make going through their immigration pretty pleasant and therefore outright confusing for Americans.

The following is what you can expect as a standard Western world passport holder.

Not all entry points work exactly the same way, but Frankfurt, Germany, by virtue of being the biggest, is illuminating. You get off the plane, you go through immigration, you pick up your checked baggage, then go through customs.

There are no way-past-retirement age agents (aka. Walmart greeters) herding you into very specific lines where you are then sniffed up and down by a cute little dog that you are not allowed to greet or, God forbid, to pet.

That alone is pleasant. There are also no truck size carts steered by people who could not see what is in front of them even if they were 7 ft. basketball players or were wearing 20 inch high stripper shoes. No 500 pound dead weights that can run you over and send you to a hospital even before you are legally speaking in the country.

And there are no forms to fill out.

Which is where the confusion starts. As we were approaching the immigration booths, we noticed a group of Americans in their early twenties, loudly debating where to go in search of the forms to fill out. They had congregated around a small rack that contained gaudy tourist flyers and train schedules but NO FORMS.

We stopped, making ourselves available for questions. A young man detached himself from the chattering flock and came over, followed closely by a young woman.

"Excuse me, where are the forms?"

"There are no forms."  They looked stunned. The eyes of the very all-American young man betrayed a thought for a split second: they are messing with me or they are clueless.

"No, really, there are no forms", and for good measure I added "and there is no fingerprinting either. You just go through immigration, they'll ask a question or two if they feel like it. But that's it".

They thanked us and went over to the others to share the information. We continued to the row of green clad German officers under the sign that said something like "EU nationals".
Which, technically, did not fully apply to us.  But they let us in.

Having picked up the baggage and the cats, we waltzed through the green "nothing to declare" customs gate without interacting with an agent. There was no agent.