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)

One fine afternoon I was walking along Fifth Avenue, 　 21　 I remembered that it was necessary to buy a pair of socks. Why I wished to buy only one pair is 　 22　 . I turned into the first sock shop that 　 23　 my eye, and a boy clerk who could not have been more than seventeen years old 　 24　 . “What can I do for you, sir?” “I wish to buy a pair of socks.” His eyes were shining. There was a note of 　 25　 in his voice. “Did you know that you had come into the finest place in the world to buy socks?” I had not been aware of that, as I entered the shop 　 26　 . “Come with me,” said the boy, excitedly. I followed him to the back part of the shop, and he began to take down from the shelves box after box, 　 27　 their contents for my enjoyment. “Hold on, young man, I am going to buy only one pair!” “I know that,” said he, “but I want you to see 　28　 beautiful these are. Aren’t they wonderful?”　 29　 was on his face an expression of pleasure, 　 30　 he were uncovering the mysteries of his religion. I became far 　 31　 interested in him than in the socks. I looked at him in amazement. “My friend,” said I, “if you can keep this up, if this is not 　32　 the enthusiasm that comes from having a new job, if you can keep up this enthusiasm and excitement day after day, in ten years you will own every 　 33　 in the United States.”

My amazement 　 34　 his pride and joy in salesmanship will be easily understood by all who read this article. In many shops the 　 35　 has to wait for someone to serve him. And when 　 36　 some clerk does notice you, you are made to feel as if you were interrupting him. Either he is 　 37　 in deep thought in which he hates to be disturbed or he is chatting with a girl clerk and you feel like 　 38　 for “being too rude”.

He shows no interest either in you or in the goods he 　 39　 to sell. Yet possibly the very clerk who is now so indifferent(冷漠的) began his career with hope and 　 40　 . The daily work was too much for him; the newness disappears slowly; his only pleasures were found outside of working hours; and he saw younger clerks who had more enthusiasm in their work promoted over him. He became sour. That was the last stage. His usefulness was over.

21.　　 A. while　　　　　　　　　　 B. when 　　　　　　　　　 C. as　　　　　　　　　　　　 D. what

22.　　 A. unimportant 　　　　 B. unusual　　　　　　　　　 C. useless　　　　　　　　　 D. unnecessary

23.　　 A. kept　　　　　　　　　　　 B. shut　　　　　　　　　　　 C. took　　　　　　　　　　　 D. caught

24.　　 A. came about　　　　　　 B. came across　　　　　 C. came forward　　　　 D. came around

25.　　 A. anxiety　　　　　　　　　 B. shame　　　　　　　　　 C. panic　　　　　　　　　　 D. excitement

26.　　 A. in particular　　　　　 B. in place　　　　　　　　　 C. by accident 　　　　　 D. on purpose

27.　　 A. exchanging　　　　　　 B. showing 　　　　　　　 C. selling　　　　　　　　　 D. hiding

28.　　 A. how 　　　　　　　　　　 B. which　　　　　　　　　　 C. that　　　　　　　　　　　 D. what

29.　　 A. There　　　　　　　　　　 B. That　　　　　　　　　　　 C. One　　　　　　　　　　　 D. It

30.　　 A. although　　　　　　　　 B. even if　　　　　　　　　 C. as if 　　　　　　　　　　 D. since

31.　　 A. much　　　　　　　　　　 B. more 　　　　　　　　　 C. less　　　　　　　　　　　 D. little

32.　　 A. mostly　　　　　　　　　 B. likely　　　　　　　　　　 C. only　　　　　　　　　　　 D. hardly

33.　　 A. sock　　　　　　　　　　 B. money　　　　　　　　　 C. joy　　　　　　　　　　　　 D. store

34.　　 A. with　　　　　　　　　　　 B. at　　　　　　　　　　　　　 C. to　　　　　　　　　　　　 D. on

35.　　 A. salesman　　　　　　　 B. passenger　　　　　　　 C. manager　　　　　　　　 D. customer

36.　　 A. firstly　　　　　　　　　　 B. especially　　　　　　　 C. absolutely　　　　　　　 D. finally

37.　　 A. absorbed 　　　　　　　 B. devoted　　　　　　　　 C. busy　　　　　　　　　　 D. attracted

38.　　 A. forgiving　　　　　　　 B. apologizing 　　　　　 C. favoring　　　　　　　　 D. approving

39.　　 A. paid　　　　　　　　　　　 B. is paid　　　　　　　　　 C. was paid　　　　　　　　 D. pays

40.　　 A. content　　　　　　　　　 B. sympathy 　　　　　　 C. surprise　　　　　　　　 D. enthusiasm