Introductory Diplomacy

[owlectomy]

So.



When last I updated from a computer that didn't charge an exorbitant per-minute rate, I was just about to discover that it was possible to make an appointment with the US embassy, specifically US Citizenship & Immigration, online. Which was a win, because (a) that would let me get in a reservation ASAP even though it was Sunday, and (b) I would be able to get an appointment without talking to a human being.

Monday morning, I fortified myself with four pastries and a glass of grapefruit juice and set out, having made an appointment for 9:30 (Apparently, hotels in Italy distinguish themselves on the basis of their showers and their breakfast spreads.)

I got a bit of a late start, so rode the tram, and promptly... could not figure out how to validate my ticket. Of course this just so happens to be the day that someone's actually coming through to check people's tickets, and he yells at me a bit and says he's going to fine me 50 Euros, but then he lets me off because I am a sad, panicky foreigner.

So. I arrive at the embassy promptly at 9:15. I give them my appointment letter and my passport. There is a bustling inside the embassy. Sometime later one of the guards hands me a phone. I explain what I need to the voice on the phone.
"Can you come back in the afternoon?" she says.
"I have an appointment!" I say.
"There are lots of appointments!" she says.

I should not have been surprised. The last time I've had any serious dealings with USCIS was when I first got my green card, and we had to get there at some ungodly hour -- I think the building didn't even open until 10:00 but you had to be in line at 6:00 to have a chance of being served.

It's not that they're bad people at USCIS. They're just terribly, terribly understaffed.

Anyway, I pled my case -- I needed to get on a plane as soon as possible, I couldn't afford to keep staying in hotels, I was missing work -- and the voice on the phone told me to wait twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes passed.

Then twenty more.

I sat down on the concrete. I was beginning to worry.

Finally I was let into the building, and had a fairly straightforward process to go through to prove that I was a legal US resident. And I got my transportation letter!

So, next step was to call American Airlines and get my flight rebooked. So I found a pay phone tried the number that the booking desk had given me.

Didn't work.

Tried again. Didn't work.

I went to the travel agency that had previously been "helpful" in getting a hotel booked for me (I do not actually believe that the hotel they booked for me in any way matched up with my request for a cheap hotel close to the train station, because it was an expensive-ish hotel very far from the train station, but who knows? Maybe it was the best they could do on such short notice) and asked if they could be any help. They couldn't help in getting my flights rebooked, but they could give me the number of the airport in Rome. Well, that was something.

So I called, and got someone who didn't speak any English, and managed to convey that I needed the number for American Airlines.

She gave me a number, different from the one I had been given at the booking desk.

That one didn't work either.

I tried all of the numbers I have been given an extra couple of times, just for kicks. I may possibly have cussed out the pay phone at this point.

Well -- I would just have to go down to the airport to sort this out. And I was determined not to leave except on a plane. (Round trip to and from the airport was 30 Euros, and that's before you count in hotel costs...)

So, I arrived at the airport at 1:30 and got the shuttle to the terminal where all the American carriers had their booking desks.

Everything was closed.

Everything was open 8:30-12:30. (I think this is kinda ridiculous.)

I ran around panicky for a bit until I saw someone uniformed passing through the AA counter, and I said desperately, "I know you're closed but please, I really need some help."

At this point I certainly looked like I needed some help.

So anyway, she took pity on me and booked me a flight... for 12:55 the next day, almost 24 hours hence.

I continued to be determined not to leave except on a plane.

I went back to the big terminal, where I spent the next 23 hours feeding coins into the internet kiosk, reading books, finding snacks, and not sleeping.

The flight was unremarkable but very long.

When we got in to New York I showed my transportation letter to the guy at customs, and he sent me to Secondary Passport Screening, where I waited and watched people get grilled at length on visa-related questions. I began to worry. How long was this going to take? How many questions were they going to ask me? They surely couldn't deport me back to Canada, could they?

At last my name was called.

The conversation went something like this:
"So you lost your green card?"
"Yeah. Well, it's on my desk at home. In Brooklyn."
"All right, have a good one."

I had spent nearly two hours waiting since arriving in New York, counting the first customs line and then the secondary screening.

I am home.

Home, home, home, home, home.

I have been awake for something like forty-three hours.

A final note:

At the hotel in Siena, we found that someone had abandoned a copy of Air by Geoff Ryman. I dithered on taking it -- did I want an extra book weighing me down? Hadn't I read a few pages of that at the library and not really gotten into it? -- but finding it unclaimed when we checked out, I guessed that it was meant to be mine.

That is the book that got me through that night at the airport.

There is nothing like a good, long book to get you through a bad, long day.

Person who left their book at the Cannon D'Oro, you may never know what a great good thing you did. But you have my eternal gratitude.

Comments

[erika]

Wow, that was an awesome story. I'm so glad it has a happy ending!