Part 1 : Renewing My Residence Permit
There's a man in the Public Relations (PR) Office at my University who helps me with official papers like renewing my annual residence permit. I gave him my passport and the documents needed in the end of December to handle them. He didn't apply right away because of the New Year's explosion in Alexandria and the turmoil that happened after. He called me on Thursday saying that the new rules now require I must go present my respectable self at the Immigration Department, and we agreed to meet Saturday (today) at 8:30 AM. I woke up today (well I can't say I woke up, I barely slept for an hour) got dressed, called him - he was already there and ran out. The door closed behind me as I went down the stairs. I took a taxi and got there in 5 minutes. We presented ourselves to the commanding officer who took one look at my papers and declined to renew the Visa, claiming that one sentence in the University statement is wrong. I won't get into much details here, because if you're Egyptian or you live in Egypt you know the bureaucracy here has no limits. So I swallowed my pride an went back to the University to change one little phrase of 10 words into 2 little phrases of 5 words each. YES! all what he wanted was to see this phrase of 5 words on a separate line so he can circle it.
At the University, in the department of Student Affairs, and after so much pleading, they changed the form and I got the 3 needed signatures. One particular woman, the middle of the command chain, was a total bitch. She wanted me to pay for the form all over again and almost changed the mind of her boss about making the change I needed. I ignored her and called that PR man who talked to the boss and convinced him of what should be done. After that I went to the office of the Dean of Student Affairs to get his signature. It was 10:30 AM. Naturally, he wasn't there. They told me to come at 12:30 noon. So I went out, bought a chocolate and a bottle of carbonated water, ate and drank while walking home. I arrived at my apartment only to find out my keys are not in my pockets. I was shocked. I never forgot my keys anywhere!! I was locked out. I knocked on the neighbors' door. The neighbor is my landlady's sister and owns half the building. Her husband is a very nice retired engineer. They said they didn't have a spare for my keys, but nevertheless they produced a huge pile of keys and we started trying them one by one. Finally one of the worked !! This apartment apparently first belonged to their mother and she left one of her keys with that huge pile. I was ecstatic and they told me "The Lord loves you." I was inside for not more than 5 minutes (enough to update my facebook status) when my phone rang and the PR office told me the Dean arrived if I wanted to meet him. I went back (this time double-checking my keys) and arrived there in 10 minutes. The Dean's office was a beehive. I never seen so many people coming in and out in my life. Papers, papers, and more papers being signed or rejected. I waited for 45 minutes. Finally I went in. The Dean was a very decent guy, but tough in the same time (??) and joked about me living illegaly. However, he refused to sign the new form (statement) claiming that it's written in a wrong way. He called in the head of the PR office, whom I know very well, and they discussed it for some time. Meanwhile there were loud noises outside and some guy was yelling and screaming. The Dean called him in and he was still yelling. He told him to lower his voice, to which he responded (I'm a resident doctor and my voice has a loud tone.) The Dean told him "you're a resident in your own home, not in my office. Respect yourself and other people especially that you're in my office" then he pointed at me and said "why can't you guys be like Lebanese people, polite and respectful even in the most stressful of times?" Anyway his problem was transportation (I really lost concentration.) Then the Dean told me to change the form (yet again) and the head of the PR office called the Student Affairs and told them to help me, so I went back, got it changed, got the 3 signatures again and went back to the Dean to sign it. It was already 13:30 (1:30PM) and the Immigration Department closes at 14:00. I took a cab, photocopied the new form, and presented myself to the Officer again. The clock was 13:48. I was sweaty, my hair was a mess, and he took pity on me. He signed my papers and I went to Window number 2 to give them the passport and documents. No one was to be found. I waited until 13:53 , and finally asked where is the person in charge. She was arguing with a French-Algerian couple, a bearded (Islamist) man and his Niqabi wife. They were objecting to her removing her Niqab in public so the Immigration people can recognize her face on the passport. After a few long minutes, she finally agreed. She lifted her Niqab and my first and only reaction was "wow. she is uglyyyyyy!!!" The man gave me a fiery look for looking at his wife's face, but I continued to stare. The woman in charge signed their papers and took mine, smiling, she said "did you know today was your last chance? If you came tomorrow you would have paid a $30 fine." I didn't know that, but I told her I did, and that I came in the morning but the Officer refused my papers. She signed my passport and told me to come back in a few days to finish processing my residence permit. I get another year. I left at 14:05 and called the PR office, thanking them for everything.
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Part 2 : McDONALD's
Famished, sleepless and extremely tired, I walked for a couple minutes, and I found myself walking by McDonald's. I was thrilled to see them advertising a new item on the menu, the Mega-Mac, which is basically a double Big Mac, so it has 4 pieces of meat and 2 pieces of cheese. I'm not a McDonald's person as you know, but I wanted the Mega-Mac soooooo bad. I went in, and waited in line. The guy ahead of me was a huge teenager, who look just like that farm-boy, Thor, from Hannah Montana, only darker. He couldn't read the menu (I swear) and he was on a DATE! Granted, she was also a simpleton. The bulky teenager pointed at a picture (it turned out to be the McRoyale) , ordered two, and the cashier ripped him off by signaling the maxed-size combo. I ordered my Mega-Mac and went to sit down at a comfy table in the end of the place, when a 7-year old obese kid who was standing behind me in line broke free and came to me, saying "3ammo (Mister) this is OUR table." I looked at him, and he kept saying this is our table. I told him there are plenty of places, go sit anywhere you like. He continued to nag and I was about to get angry, when I looked up and saw his mother. She was very plump, and she looked like a country-woman as well. I wondered what the heck happened so McDonald's would be swarming with Falaheen and countryside people. Then I realized it must be something new to them on one of their rare visits to the city. Anyway, I continued to look at that obese woman, who had another obese woman with her other obese kid with her as well. I scanned the place, and registered that the 4 of them won't be able to squeeze into any of the empty tables, while mine was in the middle, spacious and comfy. I looked at the kid and then decided to move to one of the smaller tables. But before I moved, his mother came towards me, took the kid by the ear, and told me to stay. I told her I don't mind moving, and I like the kid's honesty. She said "he's my son, and he's bege7 (rude) , you stay where you are." I did, and they sat down at a table by the window. I finished and left McDonald's, heading towards the nearby Tram station.
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Part 3 : The Tramway. A Wave of Paranoia.
Before I got to the Tram, I passed by my favorite pharmacist, a beautiful young woman with amazing green eyes, and bought the usual lozenges, then, I cleared my throat and asked for condoms. She produced them silently. I went out only to find the Tram moving. I missed it by a few seconds. I regretted bullshitting that pharmacist.
I waited for 10 more minutes until the next Tram showed up. Two of them *numbers 1 and 2* I can take either one because my place is only 4 or 5 stations away. They go in their separate tracks waaaaaaay beyond that. I got on the first one, and saw a man handing another man a big black bag. I got paranoid and I saw a mental image of the bag, loaded with explosives, blowing up. I then saw myself in the hospital, lacking a limb or two, unable to talk to anyone I know because I lost my phone, and unable to remember the names of any of my friends or family. I felt a panic attack approaching so I totally freaked out and jumped out of the Tram into the other one, that was luckily starting to move.
I got home at 15:25.
I'm going to take a very well needed nap now. When I wake up, I hope I'll have enough energy to STUDY. There's less than a day and a half left before my first exam.
4 comments:
Interesting & well written, must have been a very stressful day.
Hope you are now ell rested & the studies go well. :)
And i thought that my luck is the worst in the world, well i must rephrase,my luck is always bad, urs can be extremely bad at irradic times. My cousin once told me that my luck is so bad that if i stick my hand in a bag of pussies, i wud pull out a dick.
R u a magnet to weirdness mate? plus one question i MUST ask, u serious that 'queues' exist in Arab countries? i mean i lived years in Leb, never heard the ppl even mention that word as it simply doesnt exist in their culture man, thumbs up for d Eggies then for havin the comprehension of what it means to stand in a queue.
I'm so sure the bearded dude is still cursing u n wishin u burn in the deepest n blackest flames of his hell :)
MegaMac? sounds that u need to have a forklift jaw with a quadrilooped joint to maneuver it into a biting position, i suppose ppl eat it under a week's time thru smelling it.
Much love Angelo my good ol' amigo.
A.
Armando .. what a nice surprise .... how did you come across my blog ? :D
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no , Egyptians have no notion of the word "queue" whatsoever , I always argue with people pushing me aside or women trying to get there first just because they're women (hareem) ... remember how Lithuanians used to stand in line just to get a gum from the Spauda ?...
Hey amigo, just watched the news, d shit hit the fan even in Alexandria, hope ur well n kickin.
Me thought with ya habib.
A.
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