Priceless fun, episode 2

For episode 1, click here.

The 'interview' turned out to be a few questions over the counter with the Consul official behind some impressively thick (bullet proof?) glass and with the rest of the masses sitting 3 metres listening behind me. I was expecting a full on grilling-type interview where you had to convince them that you weren't actually trying to immigrate to the US, so it was a shock that the interview was so casual. Casual in a stern, no-nonsense, official way.

For some reason the presence of the crowd (aka other people sitting there waiting) at my back made me nervous answering the questions about the purpose and duration of my stay, and the few other standard queries, that were asked by the youngish American guy behind the glass. My nerves didn't affect my application luckily and soon my application was being given the OK. Time taken: 3 mins, max. Then it was back waiting (of course) before I was called to pay my issuance fee at the adjacent counter. It turned out that the cashier had overlooked my payment however and after 30 mins diligently listening for my number (which was never called) I went up and got it all sorted out. Given the very regimental and intimidating feel of all the proceedings, it took me about 10 mins to decide it was worth going up to ask what was going on. Wuss! I know. Soon however, I was struggling to pull open the metal door on my way out, I was weak with hunger, ahem, and escorted out of the building.

I was impressed at how efficient the Consulate were in issuing the visa after the interview process. After a Thursday morning interview I had my passport delivered on Monday by Platinum Express post. Time taken: 3 days or so, impressive, most impressive. That Monday morning when the delivery guy knocked on the door I was still in bed. The knocking instantly woke me up and I immediately knew it was my passport being delivered. I leaped out of bed, signed for the delivery, excitedly ripped open the satchel and gazed at the visa that covered an entire page of my passport.

It had all the usual stuff you'd expect on a visa, place of issue, my name and passport number but what immediately caught my eye was the heading 'Control number' with a list of digits underneath.

Control number, huh?

Two lines of thought ran through my head;
1. Does this mean I unwittingly received a brain-controlling implant during my visit to the US Consulate? o.O *adjusts tin-foil hat*

2. Being the nerd that I am, I thought Control, cool, Get Smart and Agent 86. I checked my delivery satchel for the Control Agent standard-issue shoe phone, but alas, there was none. You know, the hilarious 80's spy comedy TV show Get Smart? The Cone-of-silence? 99, the Chief and ...oh, nevermind...

Agent's 86 and 99. The old phone in the shoe trick. Gotta love that stunned-mullet look they both have.

Yeah, dunno what was going through my brain that morning but I had just gotten up if that's any defense.

I've always had the impression that a passport could not be damaged/modified in any way whatsoever, so it was strange to see a business sized envelope attached to the back cover of my passport with big-ass staples that defaced the distinctive and previously unblemished material of the passport cover. I forget what was printed on the envelope, but it had words to the effect of 'Do not open, US customs only' on the front, and at San Francisco airport I saw that only my visa forms were inside.

Five days after I received my visa, I was in Boston starting a new chapter of my life.

So that was my visa process, and in a nutshell;
Visa fees: $433
Train ticket to consulate: $3.60
Time spent completing the entire Visa process: Pricel.....oh shit, that's for Mastercard....

OK there's no excuse for that lame 'joke' *hangs head and shuffles away in shame to a dark corner*.

Here's an infinitely more amusing joke that is somewhat predictable but remains, priceless.