My heart sank when the man at the immigration counter gestured to the back room. I was born and raised in America, and this was Miami, where I live, but they weren’t quite ready to let me in yet.

　 “Please wait in here, Ms. Abujaber,” the immigration officer said. My husband, with his very American last name, accompanied me. He was getting used to this. The same thing had happened recently in Canada when I’d flown to Montreal to speak at a book event. That time they held me for 45 minutes. Today we were returning from a literary festival in Jamaica, and I was shocked that I was being sent “in back” once again.

　　The officer behind the counter called me up and said, “Miss, your name looks like the name of someone who’s on our wanted list. We’re going to have to check you out with Washington.”

　　“How long will it take?”

　　“Hard to say…a few minutes,” he said, “We’ll call you when we’re ready for you.” After an hour, Washington still hadn’t decided anything about me.

“Isn’t this computerized?” I asked at the counter, “Can’t you just look me up?”

“Just a few more minutes,” they assured me.

　　After an hour and a half, I pulled my cell phone out to call the friends I was supposed to meet that evening. An officer rushed over. “No phones!” he said, “For all we know you could be calling a terrorist cell and giving them information.”

　　“I’m just a university professor,” I said. My voice came out in a squeak.

　　“Of course you are. And we take people like you out of here in leg irons every day.”

　　I put my phone away.

　　My husband and I were getting hungry and tired. Whole families had been brought into the waiting room, and the place was packed with excitable children, exhausted parents, and even a flight attendant.

　　I wanted to scream, to jump on a chair and shout: “I’m an American citizen; a novelist; I probably teach English literature to your children.”

After two hours in detention (扣押), I was approached by one of the officers. “You’re free to go,” he said. No explanation or apologies. For a moment, neither of us moved. We were still in shock. Then we leaped to our feet.

　　“Oh, one more thing,” he handed me a tattered photocopy with an address on it, “If you aren’t happy with your treatment, you can write to this agency.”

　　“Will they respond?” I asked.

　　“I don’t know—I don’t know of anyone who’s ever written to them before.” Then he added,” By the way, this will probably keep happening each time you travel internationally.”

　　“What can I do to keep it from happening again?”

　　He smiled the empty smile we’d seen all day, “Absolutely nothing.”

　　After telling several friends about our ordeal, probably the most frequent advice I’ve heard in response is to change my name. Twenty years ago, my own graduate school writing professor advised me to write under a pen name so that publishers wouldn’t stick me in what he called “the ethnic ghetto”—a separate, secondary shelf in the bookstore. But a name is an integral part of anyone’s personal and professional identity—just like the town you’re born in and the place where you’re raised.

　　Like my father, I’ll keep the name, but my airport experience has given me a whole new perspective on what diversity and tolerance are supposed to mean. I had no idea that being an American would ever be this hard.

1.The author was held at the airport because ______.

A. she and her husband returned from Jamaica

B. her name was similar to a terrorist’s

C. she had been held in Montreal

D. she had spoken at a book event

2.She was not allowed to call her friends because ______.

A. her identity hadn’t been confirmed yet

B. she had been held for only one hour and a half

C. there were other families in the waiting room

D. she couldn’t use her own cell phone

3.We learn from the passage that the author would ______ to prevent similar experience from happening again.

A. write to the agency?????????? B. change her name??

C. avoid traveling abroad??????? D. do nothing

4.Her experiences indicate that there still exists ______ in the US.

A. hatred???????????????????? B. discrimination?????

C. tolerance?????????????????? D. diversity

5.The author sounds ______ in the last paragraph.

A. impatient?? B. bitter???????? C. worried??????????? D. ironic (具有讽刺意味的)

If you have ever gone through a toll booth(收费所), you know that your relationship to the person in the booth is not the most intimate you'll ever have. It is one of life's frequent affairs: You hand over some money; you might get change; you drive off.
　　Late one morning in 1984, headed for lunch in San Francisco, I drove toward a booth. I heard loud music. It sounded like a party. I looked around. No other cars with their windows open. No sound trucks. I looked at the toll booth. Inside it, the man was dancing.
　　"What are you doing?" I asked.
　　"I'm having a party," he said.
　　"What about the rest of the people?" I looked at the other toll booths.
　　He said, "What do those look like to you?" He pointed down the row of toll booths.
　　"They look like……toll booths. What do they look like to you?"
　　He said, "Vertical coffins. At 8:30 every morning, live people get in. Then they die for eight hours. At 4:30, like Lazarus from the dead, they reemerge and go home. For eight hours, brain is on hold, dead on the job. Going through the motions."
　　I was amazed. This guy had developed a philosophy, a mythology about his job. Sixteen people dead on the job, and the seventeenth, in precisely the same situation, figures out a way to live. I could not help asking the next question: "Why is it different for you? You're having a good time."
He looked at me. "I knew you were going to ask that. I don't understand why anybody would think my job is boring. I have a corner office, glass on all sides. I can see the Golden Gate, San Francisco, and the Berkeley hills. Half the Western world vacations here……and I just stroll in every day and practice dancing."
【小题1】According to the first paragraph, in most cases, how do you describe the relationship between drivers and toll booth?

Twelve years ago, my mother gave birth to the beautiful little girl. 　 36　 , we were later given the 　 37　 that this little girl, who was three and a half month old, would only have 14 days on earth. It’s hard to understand what kind of 　38　 you have when you find out that you’re 　39　 something that you don’t even know.

As time went on, the number of days kept growing, which gave us 　 40 . When the doctors said that we could take her home, that was 　 41　 reality hit. We had no 　 42　 .

I’m from a small town with small hospitals, but when you don’t have money, you just don’t 　43 it. My mother tried for days to get money, but nothing 　44　 each time. A caseworker (社会工作者) was even doing her best. It’s 　45　 that it almost felt as if we had to 　46　 a baby from the hospital.

One day the caseworker walked into her boss’s office to 　47 again. As she walked out, 48 down yet again, out of no where a man walked up to her. He 　49 her a handful of money and said, “Please give this to the lady in 　50 , so she can take her daughter home.” She looked down at her hand with tears in her eyes. As she looked back up to thank him, he was 51　 . They searched all over the hospital and he was nowhere to be 　52　 .

Thanks to the guy that I will 　53　 know, we could take home that 　 54 baby girl that was only given 14 days to live, and celebrated her 12^th birthday yesterday. I am grateful to this man and feel that his act of 　55 should be shared with everyone.

36. A. Besides 　　　　　 B. Otherwise 　　　　　　 C. However 　　　　　　　 D. Therefore

37. A. idea 　　　　　　　　 B. news 　　　　　　　　　 C. order 　　　　　　　　　 D. point

38. A. character 　　　　 B. friendship 　　　　　　 C. habit 　　　　　　　　　　 D. feeling

39. A. losing 　　　　　　 B. wasting 　　　　　　　　 C. explaining 　　　　　　 D. gaining

40. A. hope 　　　　　　　 B. freedom 　　　　　　　 C. trouble 　　　　　　　　 D. information

41. A. how 　　　　　　　 B. where 　　　　　　　　　 C. when 　　　　　　　　　 D. whether

42. A. car 　　　　　　　　 B. knowledge 　　　　　 C. shelter 　　　　　　　　 D. money

43. A. understand 　　　 B. have 　　　　　　　　　　 C. change 　　　　　　　　 D. prevent

44. A. came up 　　　　 B. set up 　　　　　　　　　 C. made up 　　　　　　　 D. gave up

45. A. interesting 　　　 B. necessary 　　　　　　 C. impossible 　　　　　　 D. sad

46. A. save 　　　　　　　 B. buy 　　　　　　　　　　 C. visit 　　　　　　　　　　 D. develop

47. A. apologize 　　　　 B. research 　　　　　　　 C. try 　　　　　　　　　　　 D. interview

48. A. let 　　　　　　　　　 B. moved 　　　　　　　　 C. knelt 　　　　　　　　　　 D. fell

49. A. took 　　　　　　　 B. paid 　　　　　　　　　　 C. handed 　　　　　　　　 D. lent

50. A danger 　　　　　　 B. need 　　　　　　　　　　 C. reward 　　　　　　　　 D. advance

51. A. gone 　　　　　　　 B. shy 　　　　　　　　　　　 C. disappointed 　　　　 D. proud

52. A. avoided 　　　　　 B. found 　　　　　　　　　 C. persuaded 　　　　　　 D. stopped

53. A. even 　　　　　　　 B. still 　　　　　　　　　　　 C. almost 　　　　　　　　 D. never

54. A. beautiful 　　　　 B. naughty 　　　　　　　 C. nervous 　　　　　　　 D. dangerous

55. A. courage 　　　　　　 B. gentleness 　　　　　　 C. kindness 　　　　　　　 D. politeness