The Passport Catastrophe Travels to Chicago
My flight left at 6.30 a.m. I'm not a morning person under the best of circumstances, but having to be on the road so early to follow up on my self-imposed humiliation amplified the agitation about tenfold.
I arrived in Chicago by 7.30 and had so much time before my 11.00 appointment that I decided to take the train instead of a taxi. I arrived at 8.30 and found -- surprise! -- hundreds of people waiting for passports. So much for a leisurely breakfast and newspaper before my appointment: I got in line.
I won't belabor the story. I won't tell about the hour and a half to get through security, unsure whether I was in the right line or even the right building and unable to ask anyone because when I left the line I was shooed back by security guards. I won't describe the senior citizens, families with small children, and parents with infants standing for hours because we were warned not to block the lobby sitting on the floor. I won't relate the story of the lady who was kicked out after three hours for using her cell phone. I won't talk about all the appointments that came and went without acknowledgement. I won't recount how after nearly four hours the line came to a standstill when most of the staff went to lunch. I won't speak of the guard who told me I could eat half a bagel but not sit on the floor while I ate it. I won't mention the EIGHT HOURS I stood in line because what would be the point?
All day I muttered that while I deserved to be punished for carelessness, I didn't deserve to be beaten up and left for dead. By noon my hands were shaking and I was having a tough time stringing together coherent sentences.
On the other hand, I will take note of the people who shared snacks or held your place while you got a drink or went to the bathroom. I will remember the small amount of amusement we felt when a reporter and cameraman showed up outside the building to commemorate our day in Purgatory. I will mention the appreciative chuckles greeting my observation that we seemed to be reliving the waiting room scene from Beetlejuice.
All in all it wasn't such a bad day. Okay -- who am I kidding? It was one of the most fatiguing, preposterous, humiliating, stressful and annoying days of my life. By the end of the day I flew home with a shiny new passport and, admittedly, a unique story to entertain family and friends.
Visit my web site, FeeFiFoto.com, for personalized photo gifts. We will put your photos on almost anything. Look for personalized photo mugs, personalized photo calendars, personalized photo handbags, personalized photo puzzles, personalized photo playing cards and personalized photo jewelry.
I arrived in Chicago by 7.30 and had so much time before my 11.00 appointment that I decided to take the train instead of a taxi. I arrived at 8.30 and found -- surprise! -- hundreds of people waiting for passports. So much for a leisurely breakfast and newspaper before my appointment: I got in line.
I won't belabor the story. I won't tell about the hour and a half to get through security, unsure whether I was in the right line or even the right building and unable to ask anyone because when I left the line I was shooed back by security guards. I won't describe the senior citizens, families with small children, and parents with infants standing for hours because we were warned not to block the lobby sitting on the floor. I won't relate the story of the lady who was kicked out after three hours for using her cell phone. I won't talk about all the appointments that came and went without acknowledgement. I won't recount how after nearly four hours the line came to a standstill when most of the staff went to lunch. I won't speak of the guard who told me I could eat half a bagel but not sit on the floor while I ate it. I won't mention the EIGHT HOURS I stood in line because what would be the point?
All day I muttered that while I deserved to be punished for carelessness, I didn't deserve to be beaten up and left for dead. By noon my hands were shaking and I was having a tough time stringing together coherent sentences.
On the other hand, I will take note of the people who shared snacks or held your place while you got a drink or went to the bathroom. I will remember the small amount of amusement we felt when a reporter and cameraman showed up outside the building to commemorate our day in Purgatory. I will mention the appreciative chuckles greeting my observation that we seemed to be reliving the waiting room scene from Beetlejuice.
All in all it wasn't such a bad day. Okay -- who am I kidding? It was one of the most fatiguing, preposterous, humiliating, stressful and annoying days of my life. By the end of the day I flew home with a shiny new passport and, admittedly, a unique story to entertain family and friends.
Visit my web site, FeeFiFoto.com, for personalized photo gifts. We will put your photos on almost anything. Look for personalized photo mugs, personalized photo calendars, personalized photo handbags, personalized photo puzzles, personalized photo playing cards and personalized photo jewelry.
1 comment:
LOL that scene from Beetlejuice reminds me of all the times I had to wait interminable hours waiting for the beaurocratic machine to finally get to me. Dealing with any type of government office like this is just soul destroying.
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