OK, so I get home at 2am on Monday August 24th, thinking that somehow I will go to the consulate on Tuesday, regardless of the fact that my receipt from the last visit reads clearly "August 24th 9-11am." Once I get home and start to discuss getting there with my Dad (he's a night-owl, what can I say?), I become increasingly sure that it would be a much better idea to go on the 24th instead of after. And so it begins. Will we drive into Manhattan, during rush hour, only to have me step into the consulate on the Upper East Side and wait god knows how long to get my visa, while Dad drives around aimlessly because it cots a zillion dollars to park in Manhattan? I think not. I think we should take the train. I log on to Amtrak.com, only to find that a same-day one-way trip just into Penn Station from Hartford will set us back $98. Shit. So no way we can do round-trip, but maybe a Greyhound back to Hartford? Yes, I reserve it. Non-refundable, mind you. This will be relevant later.
So I get no sleep, my Dad gets an hour, and we leave by 5:30am. Wait, that's a lie. We should have left by 5:30am to catch the train leaving from Hartford at 6:26am. Instead, we leave at 6am. My Dad's pretty good at getting to Hartford quickly. We should have been a half hour late for the train. We were six minutes late for the train. Also, we missed the exit to the train station by a couple feet, and my Dad backs up on the freeway in the breakdown lane. We didn't die. I can't imagine not dying if I had been in the car with anyone else. So, in the train station, we're told that the best we can do is drive to New Haven and catch the train there. We do so. We find the parking garage almost entirely full and have to drive all the way up to the 4th floor. It is 7:19. The train will get in at 7:30. We park and race down the stairs and into the station. Dad says "did you lock the car?" I proceed to worry about my lovely little Honda for the rest of the day. We get to the desk and I beg the guy to tell me the train hasn't left yet. He says "why don't you just take Metro-North? It'll save you a bunch of money." OK, so he refunds the $98 and we buy round-trip tickets from New Haven to Grand Central Station (see, the car won't be in Hartford, so the Greyhound is out. There goes 44 bucks.) for, get this, $65. We saved 30 bucks! 60 bucks if we compare it to the price of an Amtrak round trip, right? Right. Missing the train saved us money, if it also cost my Dad a couple years off his life. Score.
So, the Metro-North train takes us right into Grand Central, from which we only have to take one subway, the 6 train, to the 77th street station, from which we follow the same zig-zag I ran with Mom on the 11th, although this time we're not late (we got to the consulate by 10am!) so we can actually walk. They let me in at 10 East 74th St. and we wait. And we wait. We are packed into the bathroom-sized waiting room with a ton of other people. And not a big bathroom, either. A truck-stop bathroom. Standing-room only. We wait for almost 2 hours as people filter in and out, shuffle their visa applications, twirl their hair, and eat bananas. Actually only one girl ate a banana, but I thought it was worth mentioning. She was pretty cute, too. FINALLY the little French man with longish salt-and-pepper hair (the one who tried to locate my mother last time) calls "Madeleen Hennessey" and makes sure that I'm aware that my last name is that of a fine cognac. Boy do I love the French. After a brief reminder that we all have to register with the French authorities upon arrival, our visas are stamped and signed. And now I have a visa. Thank God.
So Dad and I find our way easily back to the 77th St. station and get on the subway back to Grand Central, where we find that the next train back to New Haven leaves in about 40 minutes, giving us enough time to get coffee (I downed a large iced coffee in about fourteen seconds. I needed that coffee.), a bagel for Dad (those New Yorkers really have bagels down, despite the $1.50 cost of cream cheese), and a peanut butter cookie for Mom (it was enormous!). Before we know it, we're on the train back to New Haven, and it's 2pm. 12 hours, a harrowing drive, and a visa later, we're pretty much done with the whole process.
Also, on the train, I played Dad "Queen Bee" by Taj Mahal and "Fix You" by Coldplay, two of "our songs," on my iPod and, I hope, made up for the horrible ordeal I had just put him through. I love my Daddy, I really do, and I am going to miss him like crazy when I'm in France. In eight days. Oh God.
The drive back from New Haven was punctuated by The White Stripes, Tom Petty, The Doors, and the Rolling Stones, and Dad even filled my tank with gas. What did I do to deserve this man as my father?
So what else can I say? I've got my visa, and one week in the US until I set off on a much greater adventure. I imagine my blog posts will become vastly more interesting posthaste, but I certainly hope they will be less hectic and stressful. Needless to say, it was worth it.
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