Visa Hunting in Miami

24 hours later, I forgot that I had gone. January and I drove down to Miami, paying toll after toll and mindlessly eating an assortment of fast food and Pumpkin Spice Starbucks Frappuccinos. The angry Hispanic man on the phone had told my mother that we should be in line at the Consulate at about 7:00 am, even though the consulate doesn't open until 9:30. January and I, thinking ourselves the most intelligent human beings in the world, awoke even earlier and stood in the light drizzle at 6:30. There were two people in front of us. At 8:30, when they opened the doors, the four of us waltzed into the consulate, all a little worried that there was no huge line clamoring at the gates. Was there a secret, hidden line somewhere? What were we doing wrong?

Spanish Mercedes quickly attended me, and I heaved a sigh of relief as she stamped all my documents, including the "Doctor's note" that my aunt the nurse signed for us, my technically illegal passport, since I had stayed in Spain longer than six months, and the half-heartedly filled out visa application form. She cheerfully told me that the visas have been arriving amazingly fast and that I should get it in the next few days. I kung-fu gripped my passport tightly and told her I had a Very Important Trip to make on the 7th of January, and I Need This Back. She leaned in, winked, and told me that if I bring her an overnight envelope, she'll send me my passport on the 5th, with or without the visa. I am overjoyed.