Three and a half brutal hours.
Bodies lay everywhere. People were dying like flies under the withering barrage of stupidity.
I never once thought any of us would make it out alive. Such was the cruelty of the enemy we faced.
She was vicious - 5'4, middle aged, and firmly entrenched inside her little pill-box. Nothing would shift her. She was truly the Bitch Troll from Hell.
No mercy. No quarter. She could eat a visa applicant whole and spit out his bones. All this from behind 2" of bulletproof glass.
"Your photos are no good! Go and get some new ones!", she'd scream at whichever poor unfortunate dared approach her.
"Go pay the fee!", she'd scream, before brutally disembowelling her victims with an ice-laden glare of death.
Then it was my turn. As I nervously approached the window, I had a sudden flash of inspiration - water! It'd worked on the Wicked Witch, so why not the Evil Immigration Lady of Satan?
I splashed her. I doused her. Whole litres of precious dihydrogen monoxide were unleashed upon her. She withered and fell. "I'm meeeeeelting! I'm meeeeelting!", and then we were free.
As we ran for the exits, we sang joyous, Disneyised tunes of freedom. Glorious freedom.
War is hell, my friends. But the Immigration Service can be far crueller.
Oh alright, so you want the real version? Reality is over-rated, you know...
Following a delightful 13 hour bus trip up to Sydney (courtesy of a friend who insisted on getting a bus there, then pulled out at the last minute), I had a visit to the friendly United States Consulate-General. For some reason the Consulate only a few km from my house wasn't good enough...
Then followed three and a half hours of confusion, rudeness, and a near heart attack.
But after it all, all the pointless time-wasting. All the money-wasting. All the stress and agonising delay. I had my visa.
I now have a piece of paper to allow me to see my fiance. I can see a woman I haven't seen since June. YAY!
Sometimes I ask myself: "Self, what's life all about?"
But I never reply. I'm rude like that.