There are a million stories for me in this huge move and adjustment in my life. So much happened to get us here and keep us here, and the road was paved with interesting stories, many of which I’ve told before in these posts.
Today I wanted to focus on my trip to the Consulate in New York. I can’t find it in the stories, although at 580+ it’s way too many to review with much care.
On our way here, one stop involved getting an entrance visa. I was set for an emergency visa so I could take over the office of President of the Alberta College of Art and Design, which had been without a leader for some time. The process itself would take a story or two but at this point I was beyond the initial interviews etc., and I was set to move. Timing was critical as my wife was 30 weeks pregnant and had to go or had to stay, there was no middle ground.
Everything was set! The lawyers for the school had arranged everything finally with the government, and all I had to do was get to New York,, on the appointed day, and in between the hours open for visas etc., and pay for my visa and pick it up.
I drove early out of Gloucester, MA, where I was temporarily living, and drove to Boston. Everything at my end was set up with landlord, movers, friends, storage, stuff in Calgary including a rented house and rented furniture and all I needed to do was this one, “simple” job.
I arrived at LaGuardia Airport at the appropriate time. I took a car into Manhattan and was dropped off near the Canadian Consulate at 1251 Avenue of Americas. The Consular Section receives the public Monday to Friday from 9:00 a.m. to 12 noon and 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m., except for holidays but only received (at the time) visa applications between 9:00 and 12:00. So, I had to be there before they opened and be prepared to be in line.
I stood in a longish line at 9:00 and the offices opened. The staff was behind bullet proof glass here some 20 stories about the street, and spoke through 4” holes with metal microphones things, I guess, attached. It sounded a bit like Daffy Duck speaking to you and I imagine it was the same sound the other way.
There were an assortment of types all waiting to be served, and from the beginning there was a fuss, as it turns out the consulate only took exact change for anything, so if you didn’t have it with you, you had to go down an elevator and out to the street to find an answer to your problem within a three hour period as they close at noon on the button. Everyone was stressed and a man was going down the line trying to buy change from anyone, but everyone was afraid to sell him change for fear they wouldn’t have enough themselves.
When I finally reached Daffy Duck, I explained my situation, and he want to find my paperwork. This was a Friday and everything was arranged and if I had a problem there was no plan B. He found the papers, came back and asked a few questions, and then he told me to take a seat and wait; he’d get back to me. By then it was about 11:15.
At noon all the windows closed and everyone, including all workers and patrons seemed to leave. I was sitting there alone and waiting. Now I knew Canadians well enough at that point and had spent much time in Canada as a visitor, and they aren’t exactly like the typical New Yorker. If he said he’d be back, I guess he would be. Typical New Yorkers explained the bullet proof glass, but I sat quietly but was shaking inside.
At about 12:15 his window opened, he called me up, took my $21 (or something, what ever it was 17 years ago) and handed me my two visas for me and my wife and closed his window.
I was so excited and had no one to celebrate with. I took myself to a nearby Pizza Pronto, had a big slice of pepperoni, a diet coke, and sat and smiled.
I have no idea what would have happened if this had gotten screwed up. Planes, cars etc. got in the way but we made it through and the rest, as they say, has been history.
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