That alarm went off way too early.
It was time to go to the immigration office. The real reason we were here.
We were smart about it. We took a taxi.
This was a REAL taxi. No sitting on laps. We had our own seat.
When we were dropped off, we waded through at least a hundred people in the front door.
It seemed this would have been the busiest area of the building. Wrong. We had to meet the lady in the cafeteria. So did everyone else.
We were lucky that we snagged a seat for my aching feet, as I was wearing a suit with a jacket and heels in Dominican heat.
When our person showed up 20 minutes late, we were happy we would be able to go into the building.
There MUST be air conditioning, no? No. This is where the real fun was.
At least 500 people crammed into a room, all waiting for one teller to start their proceedings.
This is when we realized we paid a good chunk of money to the lawyer for a damn good reason.
SHE stood in our lineups. SHE dealt in Spanish and just had us sign papers without any problems.
It gave Papi and I time to talk about all that had gone on over the past few days.
I told him, "The scariest part for me is that you keep saying you don't think you're an alcoholic. You will continue to get drunk until you realize you can't have just one drink." He begrudgingly admitted to me that he knows he is. That he just wanted to be like everyone else and have a drink at the side of the pool.
"But we're not 'everyone else'," I told him.
Then he asked me about my part in this, "You seriously didn't enjoy having a drink?"
"Nope. It was too much like being on pain killers and I want to be as far from that feeling as possible. I like feeling coherent, alive and awake."
Lucky for me. Not so for Papi. He likes it.
After 3 hours of waiting in really uncomfortable seats in a really hot room with 500 people, it was finally time to go to the medical office.
This was the real reason Papi has had so much anxiety. We were told they watch you pee. My love was terrified that someone was going to notice he had no penis, and the transphobia would set in.
Turns out, he had nothing to worry about. They really didn't stare at his crotch. He went in, did his business and he was done.
However, then it was my turn.
I had performance anxiety. I can't pee on demand, unless I really have to go.
I sat there for a while and finally said, "I can't!" She sent me out to the hall to drink 2 litres of water.
Papi told everyone my problem and everyone laughed because I couldn't pee. We had a good chuckle getting to know the family waiting along side us.
Then the devil lady who stood in all our lines was angry. "I have to go pick up my kids!!! What is the problem? Why can't you pee?!?!?"
Sure. Yell at me. That will make it come out faster. Why don't you just come kick me in the box? Maybe that will help too?
Swearing in Spanish, pacing back and forth, she finally left and Papi tried to calm her down.
Then I felt it! I can pee! I told the woman I could, but she wanted me to wait a little longer to be sure.
Oh great. Devil lady will be really happy about this.
When she finally let me in and I did my deed, I felt like I won a prize. I strutted out of that office like a queen, even though everyone else there didn't know why I was so proud.
The family we had a chuckle with was long gone.
Now we had to go to the hospital for our X-Rays and we were done.
Devil lady yelled, "Take this taxi and go by yourselves. I have to leave. He will take your papers and give them to me later."
Really? We're just going to give some dude our personal information to give you later? I guess if we have to we will.
The best part about it was, after we were done, he drove us straight home and we didn't have to sit on laps again. Twice in one day was a true treat!!
The day didn't end there.
There was still time for shopping. Necessary shopping. It was time to replace all the bleach bombed clothing the Housemaid destroyed.
Off we went, the chihuahua in hand to get in a little retail therapy.
We just didn't know what we were in for.
We were famous among security guards, that's for sure.
It was time to go to the immigration office. The real reason we were here.
We were smart about it. We took a taxi.
This was a REAL taxi. No sitting on laps. We had our own seat.
When we were dropped off, we waded through at least a hundred people in the front door.
It seemed this would have been the busiest area of the building. Wrong. We had to meet the lady in the cafeteria. So did everyone else.
We were lucky that we snagged a seat for my aching feet, as I was wearing a suit with a jacket and heels in Dominican heat.
When our person showed up 20 minutes late, we were happy we would be able to go into the building.
There MUST be air conditioning, no? No. This is where the real fun was.
At least 500 people crammed into a room, all waiting for one teller to start their proceedings.
This is when we realized we paid a good chunk of money to the lawyer for a damn good reason.
SHE stood in our lineups. SHE dealt in Spanish and just had us sign papers without any problems.
It gave Papi and I time to talk about all that had gone on over the past few days.
I told him, "The scariest part for me is that you keep saying you don't think you're an alcoholic. You will continue to get drunk until you realize you can't have just one drink." He begrudgingly admitted to me that he knows he is. That he just wanted to be like everyone else and have a drink at the side of the pool.
"But we're not 'everyone else'," I told him.
Then he asked me about my part in this, "You seriously didn't enjoy having a drink?"
"Nope. It was too much like being on pain killers and I want to be as far from that feeling as possible. I like feeling coherent, alive and awake."
Lucky for me. Not so for Papi. He likes it.
After 3 hours of waiting in really uncomfortable seats in a really hot room with 500 people, it was finally time to go to the medical office.
This was the real reason Papi has had so much anxiety. We were told they watch you pee. My love was terrified that someone was going to notice he had no penis, and the transphobia would set in.
Turns out, he had nothing to worry about. They really didn't stare at his crotch. He went in, did his business and he was done.
However, then it was my turn.
I had performance anxiety. I can't pee on demand, unless I really have to go.
I sat there for a while and finally said, "I can't!" She sent me out to the hall to drink 2 litres of water.
Papi told everyone my problem and everyone laughed because I couldn't pee. We had a good chuckle getting to know the family waiting along side us.
Then the devil lady who stood in all our lines was angry. "I have to go pick up my kids!!! What is the problem? Why can't you pee?!?!?"
Sure. Yell at me. That will make it come out faster. Why don't you just come kick me in the box? Maybe that will help too?
Swearing in Spanish, pacing back and forth, she finally left and Papi tried to calm her down.
Then I felt it! I can pee! I told the woman I could, but she wanted me to wait a little longer to be sure.
Oh great. Devil lady will be really happy about this.
When she finally let me in and I did my deed, I felt like I won a prize. I strutted out of that office like a queen, even though everyone else there didn't know why I was so proud.
The family we had a chuckle with was long gone.
Now we had to go to the hospital for our X-Rays and we were done.
Devil lady yelled, "Take this taxi and go by yourselves. I have to leave. He will take your papers and give them to me later."
Really? We're just going to give some dude our personal information to give you later? I guess if we have to we will.
The best part about it was, after we were done, he drove us straight home and we didn't have to sit on laps again. Twice in one day was a true treat!!
The day didn't end there.
There was still time for shopping. Necessary shopping. It was time to replace all the bleach bombed clothing the Housemaid destroyed.
Off we went, the chihuahua in hand to get in a little retail therapy.
We just didn't know what we were in for.
We were famous among security guards, that's for sure.
i accept responsibility if my anger has hurt anyone
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