Plays Well With Others

Back to the Grind …

Well, this weekend marks the three week mark as a married guy and to tell you the truth, it doesn’t feel that much different than being a single guy. I mean, the only different at this point is that I have this ring on my finger that I keep fiddling with. Man, this takes some getting used to. Everyone told me ahead of time that if you dont wear any jewelry, the ring would be the biggest thing you’d notice … and do I ever.


I’ve never really been a jewerly type of person. No necklaces or showy rings, because, let’s face it, I’m a white boy, not Mr. T or Busta Rhymes. I even have to take my watch off when I’m working because it bothers me, so this ring is taking some getting used to. It’s sort of like having a circular bone on the left ring finger. Of course, that’s the only difference so far that married life has brought to me.

Wednesday, Wifey™ and I headed into The City to take care of some INS business. For those of you that haven’t had the pleasure of visiting the Immigration and Naturalization building, let me give you this little piece of advice – it’s a day long journey. Don’t go in thinking you’ll zip in and out because you’ll be sadly mistaken. It’s going to take all day and while you are there, you’ll probably actually spend only fifteen minutes talking to actual people – the rest of the time is spent waiting in lines or for your number to be called.

We actually arrived around 9AM and were pleasantly surprised to find the outside of the building void of any lines. Actually, my first reaction was “OHMYGOD, it’s closed”. But once we got to the security desk, we found the building to be open and ready for business, it just seemed that the crowds dont actually start arriving until about 10AM. Score!! So, we zipped right in and waited in a short line where you get assigned your number – ours was 244, the number on the board was 221. Now, if this were an ice cream parlor, you’d probably get up there in about ten to fifteen minutes, but this being the INS the approximate waiting time would be 2 and a half hours. Ugh. Okay, we can deal with it. So we find a place to camp out and begin our wait.

Now, let me try to paint a picture of this room we have to wait in. It looks like it might have been the basement of the building at some point. There’s little sunlight coming in and it’s filled with chairs. Rows and rows and rows of chairs, all facing the number boards, everyone sitting, staring, waiting for their number to be pulled up. The room is filled with the sounds of discussion, most of which can only be understood by someone who speaks the same language.

After about three hours, our number finally popped up on the board and we raced up to the counter to be met by a disgruntled INS worker, you know, a real people person. He grabbed the paperwork and became huffy when Wifey™ asked a question about her VISA – she was told to make a copy and return the paperwork to him, and then we were to return to the desk in one hour. Ugh … more waiting.

We decided to head to the closest eatery, which ended up being a Starbucks, and grabbed an overpriced sandwich to share, while we waited and then when our hour was up we headed back to the building of gloom and doom to get the verdict.

At about 1:30PM, we headed back to his counter and for the first few seconds he had this glazed look on his face like he’d never seen us before in his life. After describing the paperwork and envelope it was in, we were told that everything had been processed and that we should go wait in the cashier’s line to pay. Oh, did I mention this would be costing us $345. Yeah. Everything in that building costs over $100. They could just be putting a stamp on something and it would cost at least $100.

So, once we paid out amount, Wifey™ got her status changed indicating that she’d gotten married and had fulfilled that part of the agreement. We also got her a work authorization so she could start working, which involved waiting about half an hour to get her photo taken, her fingerprints done and to process her Work Authorization ID card.

We left after being in that building for six hours, and like I said, our total time talking to people was about fifteen minutes.

We all know that OJ killed his ex-wife and her boyfriend and that jury must’ve been bribed or something not to put him in jail for life, but now he’s pulled one over their eyes again by not being acquitted of some road rage case. Ugh. He’s so freaking smug about the whole thing also. He sits there smiling and looking at the cameras like “hahahahahah, I got away with it again.”

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