Passport Day
Today, I went to a post office in San Francisco to apply for a new passport, since my original passport expired many years ago. It was a significant ordeal that surprised me by its ferocity.
Despite having made an appointment and located my birth certificate, I was unable to find a printer to print off the application (I recently bought a printer from my housemate, but it’s still boxed in the quagmire that is my bedroom). So, first, I had to grab the application, fill it out on the counter, and go on my next errand.
The location I was at had cameras that were broken, so I had to wander to a nearby drugstore, get two photographs taken, and hang out for half an hour. Finally, I headed back to the post office, waited in line for 15 more minutes, and submitted my documents. Finally, all done.
Or was I? I got back to work nearby and found a message on my cell phone’s answering machine.
“Hi, I’m calling from the post office. We didn’t have you sign the passport application. Please return to the post office to do so today.”
While scrambling to unbreak a number of work-related retardation issues that I caused, I scrambled away to the post office, getting the panic halfway there that my checkbook had fallen out of my wallet on the streets of the SOMA. After waiting in line for another 15 minutes to sign my application, I was finally done with my passport application procedure. The heart attack about the checkbook festered until I got to my desk, looked around, and found it stowed correctly in a drawer. Passports, thankfully, last ten years. In 2017, I can renew by mail!
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