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Published: October 16th 2009
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I actually slept Thursday night, which was shocking to me given how frazzled I was, but I think exhaustion just got the better of me. The plan was to get up early, finish up some packing, drive downtown early to drop my car off at the parking garage (Gara is watching it for us while we’re gone), and then get a coffee and wait for my visa. All goes relatively well. Besides that it’s raining and traffic isn’t moving on Lake Shore Drive, but at this point, I don’t give a f*(%. In my mind, visa is on the way, Mumbai is on the way, Jared is on the way. Rain and traffic mean relatively nothing to me. I was even excited carrying the 45 lb large backpack on my back, the 15 lb small backpack on my front, and my overstuffed purse in the rain while walking around downtown. I felt adventurous (and thought I looked pretty cool to all the suits).
Figured it was about time I found out Jared was doing. “Um, it’s not looking good.” C’mon! Seriously? While Jared is waiting in line at the visa office he reads the instructions to the application which explain
that they DO NOT issue emergency tourist visas, and they also DO NOT issue emergency visas to anyone that’s not an Indian citizen or Indian Canadian Permanent Resident. Um, yeah. We all know that Jared will not be passing as Indian anytime soon. But, I’m undeterred. They have to do it. We’ve rebooked our flights at this point, spent tons of money, and Jared is so nice I know he can convince him to do this. So I tell him to touch back in after he talks to someone.
So standing in line to “get number for a place in line” Jared watches the dude who is giving out numbers freak out and have a screaming match with some lady…Panic sets in - Who can I call to get this done? Does my father know anyone? Dude hasn’t yelled at the last 4 people maybe he’s chilled out…after 40 minutes of waiting to see if Jared will even get a number the guy calls him up and turns out he is THE NICEST DUDE EVER…gives him a tip that he should put HONEYMOON all over the form and lets him know that this will be no problem. Half a-freaking- hour later he’s walking out the door with a visa.
I settle in to Intelligentsia, grab a coffee, and admire my backpacker coolness factor. And it pays off. In about 30 minutes Jared tells me he’ll have his visa in hand about 45 minutes. Yippee! It’s 10:00 am at this point and we even briefly consider trying to get him on the original flight, but the logistics don’t work. I decide to head over the visa office just in case my visa is early. Who knows, I’m feeling pretty good about all of this.
Until the woman at the visa office tells me, “No, the courier doesn’t get here until 11:00 am. And I actually cannot guarantee that he’ll have your passport.” She says this so calmly and matter-of-factly that I’m sure she’s misspoken. Mind you this is the same woman that’s been dealing with me all along. And I’m sure she’s very nice, and I’m sure she’s overworked and underpaid, and maybe hates it when us stupid Americans come in here “forgetting” our visas because we assume we can fly wherever we want, whenever we want, because we’re Americans, goddamnit, and doesn’t everyone want us to visit their country and spread our wealth! So I just politely ask her to repeat herself, reminding her that yesterday she assured me I would have my visa at 11:00 am, and reminding her, as politely as I can, that my flight leaves at 2:20 pm, which means I need to be at the airport at 12:20 pm, and meaning that I should probably be out of here around 11:20 am. She repeats her previous statement, offers to take my cell phone number and tells me she’ll call me when the courier comes. She also tells me that I can’t wait there because of all my bags, they don’t allow them in there, so I have to find somewhere else to wait.
Okay. Not a big deal. I hang out in a hotel lobby across the street for a little over an hour.
I head back to the visa office at 10:55 to no avail. No courier (who at this point I’m hating with no knowledge of who he is). 11:20 and I’m planning how to fly out the next day. But come 11:50 he arrives (I’m all nerves and hateful anxiety by now), I rush into the consulate, sign for my visa and am out the door and into a cab and off to O’Hare as quickly as I can. My flight is at 2:20 and I check in at 12:45, all is good. Things run smoothly the rest of the night. Flight is long but uneventful. Plane food is even surprisingly enjoyable. Things are looking up.
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Enjoyable read
Congratulations on your wedding/honeymoon.