Hiccup #2: The Interview
Kelly and I set off quite early this morning to interview with the US Consulate for our visas. We do so without the boys as we’re not quite sure what we’re in for. For the first time in a longtime we travel by train which is something that neither of us are sure we’ll do again. It’s not so much the train service by the way as it is the getting to and from the train station. Anyway, as is not usually the case with me, we arrived with plenty of time to spare (thank you Kelly) which was good ‘cause what was in-store we soon realised, was going to take us the best part of the day.
We entered the consulate with only our previous experience to go by. That was, walk in, straight to the counter and talk to the friendly staff about the process by which visas are approved. Expecting much the same we walked through the door and stopped immediately. Seems when you turn up on “Interview Day” things are little more hectic.
There was a queue to greet us some 30 people long just waiting to check-in. Beyond the security counter and metal detectors were another 20 or so people that had cleared stage one and ready to head upstairs for their “interview”. Imagining the “Interview Room” I was able to put the pending delay behind me whilst thoughts of classic timber desks, leather chairs and star spangled banners filled the air. I mean after all, this is the US Consulate and what better way to introduce foreigners into their world than old-world styled interview rooms.
Anyway we finally get through stage 1, that is, explaining to the security staff why we were there, showing all appropriate paperwork and being scanned by security. With this we were allowed to join all of the others that were patiently waiting. Waiting not to go upstairs though. No, they were waiting to see an advisor to ensure all required paperwork had been completed correctly before heading upstairs. I was nervous by this. Nervous because whilst waiting in the first queue I realised everybody before us had photographs stapled to their Visa applications and I hadn’t. I figured with Kelly and I looking as good as we did we’d let them take the photos as required. That way we could work with them to get the best shots you know?……OK what I mean by that last sentence is: I didn’t actually see anywhere that said you must staple a photo to your application so I didn’t. Needless to say every other person figured it out so I believe, through no fault of mine I was certainly the one at fault. To say Kelly was none too pleased by my oversight would be an understatement.
So my fear, as they mostly do, came true. No photos, no moving to the next stage. All of a sudden I felt like Super Mario being sent back to find a missing golden coin and Luigi, in this instance being played by Kelly, was following me determined to make sure I didn’t forget how stupid I was with my lack of completion.
Thankfully we were already in town so ducking downstairs to get a photo taken was easy. Not so thankfully though, the boys weren’t. They were at home, probably lost in their “Introduction to Calculus” or “The 256 Scientific Elements, Know Them and Know Yourself” early childhood textbooks. Either that or watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on the “Teebee” as Ben calls it.
Kelly and I head downstairs to pay $36 for 2 photos so that our forms are complete. Do you think the owner of the photo shop knows that people who forget to attach photos HAVE to come down and buy them off him whether they like it or not? I do. Regardless of the price we get them and march back upstairs to, you guessed it, rejoin the queue. To cut a long story short we: Re-queue, get through, have paperwork approved, pending missing photos for the boys that we may submit at a later date, re-join the seated queue then get upstairs for our interview.
After all of the checks it took for us to even think about heading upstairs we finally arrive to repeat all of the security checks we had just been through downstairs. Once past we enter the waiting room which was to our surprise, alot less grandiose than we expected. A little like what I imagine the inside of a DMV would look like to give you a visual. We submit our forms at a teller styled counter then wait. We return to the same counter to be fingerprinted then wait a littlemore. Then, we wait some more and some more.
Finally we approach the counter for our interview. I’m shaking in my boots by this time thinking he’s not going to believe us. “Travelling to Green Bay to watch the Packers for 6 months, Yeah right” he would say. “Do you know how cold it is there” I thought he’d tease. “What are really doing and why won’t you tell me” would be his interrogation. In the end he did believe, whole-heartedly in fact and with that we we’re on our way with his best wishes and a little smirk, “Do you know how cold it is there” he asked as he handed us the new paperwork we needed. “We do” we smiled knowing that it might be cold there but at the very least, that last 5 hours was in the end well spent.
