My pop culture-obsessed Iraqi nephew narrowly made it to the U.S. during the travel ban pause — but would he make the Metallica concert?

Abdullah Al-Rifaie, an Iraqi student, gains U.S. reentry after the court stay of President Trump’s travel ban from seven Middle Eastern, predominantly Muslim countries.

By Lorraine Ali

Feb. 7, 2017 3:15 AM PT

“Maybe they’ll have ‘La La Land’ on the in-flight entertainment,” Abdullah said on Saturday a few hours before he was set to leave Jordan on a plane bound for Los Angeles.

“If you don’t like it,” I joked, “don’t tell anyone. They won’t let you into America.”

“So many rules,” he said, laughing to ease his nerves. “I can’t keep up.”

It was true, the part about so many rules. The fate of Abdullah’s trip, and his future as a student in the U.S., was changing by the hour thanks to the confusion sown by President Trump’s executive order on travel and the multiple rulings against it.

Abdullah Al-Rifaie, 19, has lived in Southern California for the last year and a half, attending classes on a student visa. He left Los Angeles in December on winter break to renew his visa — to follow the rules. But in the few weeks it took for him to successfully get his paperwork processed in Jordan, Trump signed the executive order restricting travel from seven majority-Muslim countries, including the one that issued Abdullah’s passport, Iraq.

The order had an immediate effect on the travel plans of Abdullah and many far more desperate than him — refugees and asylum seekers whose lives were in danger in their home countries.

My sisters, my mom and an attorney who offered her services pro bono when she heard of Abdullah’s plight tried to keep abreast of the rapidly changing news.

On Thursday, the situation looked bad. He should stay in Jordan for now, the lawyer advised.

On Friday: Good news. A Boston judge issued a temporary restraining order against the travel ban. Visa holders from other countries on the list — Iran, Yemen — are getting in, we’re told, he should get here now while he can!

But later on Friday, things had changed again. Hold up, Abdullah was told. Valid visa holders are still being detained at U.S. airports and sent back to where they came from. Stay put.

This cycle of hope and doom, hope and doom, repeated itself in what seemed like a prolonged and cruel game of emotional ping pong. Even if Abdullah had gone to the airport, there was a slim-to-zero chance the airline would let him on a U.S.-bound plane. Footage of Yemeni and Syrian nationals stranded at airports all over the world told us as much.

“I’m going to miss school,” he said last week when things looked their most grim. “Do you think I should start applying to study in England or Canada? I’ll have to start all over again.”

And then there was the Metallica factor.

My pop-culture-obsessed nephew had already missed seeing his favorite metal band by two days when he left in December and, if the ban held, he’d miss them again when they play L.A. next week. “It’s like someone’s trying to keep us apart,” he said.

Early Saturday morning it looked as if the most recent restraining order on the travel ban was being honored at most U.S. airports. Abdullah decided to fly in on the return ticket to LAX he’d booked almost a year ago.

His lawyer advised him to keep in touch with her every leg of the flight. Once he landed, she instructed him to not sign anything other than the routine customs form. “And if you’re detained for questioning, be cooperative and polite,” she said, “but tell them you also have a lawyer waiting outside at the arrival gate.”

As my family, the lawyer and some dedicated friends stood at the international arrival gate at LAX, we overheard an immigration attorney explaining to an Iranian man near us that the woman he was waiting for, a student-visa holder, had been pulled for a secondary interview.

What if Abdullah was detained by customs border agents, or denied entry altogether and sent back?

My sister said she felt like she was going to throw up. My other sister said she should aim the other way because she wasn’t about to repeat the same gross scenario that happened in the family station wagon when they were kids. My mom was too preoccupied scanning the arriving travelers to notice her girls were squabbling, again.

The lawyer warned us that Abdullah would likely be detained as well, but we just had to be patient. We’d be there a while.

But there were signs of hope. One traveler emerged to a greeting of cameras and well-wishers holding balloons and welcome-home signs.

I suddenly realized, we had no signs or balloons.

At a nearby folding table set up as a makeshift office by volunteer immigration lawyers, I borrowed a Sharpie pen and paper to scrawl out a sign: “Abdullah. Metallica Rules! Welcome back.”

Within the hour, he miraculously appeared.

Abdullah Al-Rifaie arrives at LAX during a pause in the Trump administration travel ban.

For the first time since I’ve known him, my young and easygoing nephew appeared worn and nervous. He was sweating and poker faced when he walked out the automatic doors and up the ramp with his luggage. It wasn’t until he saw us in the crowd that he seemed to realize the ordeal was over.

Screams and tears and hugs, cheers from strangers, cameras flashing, reporters asking questions. He’d made it through, no questions asked. The months of vetting he’d gone through to get his American visa apparently meant something again.