17 May 2011

I just got home from Chicago with a visa in my purse!

Wow.

After sitting in the consulate for twenty minutes, waiting for a person to appear, one finally did--and asked if I was waiting for something. I had been chatting with the two other wait-ers, one of whom was having major troubles with her paperwork, and I kept thinking to myself, "What if that email wasn't real? Maybe spam is getting really advanced these days, disguising itself as legit email from consulates which happen to know people's full names and exact dates they stopped by?!"

I stood at that window and waited. And waited. And waited.

And then...she handed it to me. That beautiful, printed sticker that takes up a page of my passport. Visa! You are real!

And I won't say that I didn't tear up a little a few minutes later when I entered the bathroom just across the hall.

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