Visiting a U.S. Consulate

    I have to give terrorists some credit here.  They must be patient people. How they manage to keep their cool while waiting for the wheels of government bureaucracy to turn and endless protocols to be met, I don't know.  Perhaps this is part of what sends them into such desperate acts.
    I have held permanent residency in three foreign countries, traveled a fair bit, sponsored an immigrant and so on and so forth.  But until today I had never been able to breach  the front door of a U.S. embassy or consulate.  It would be easier to break into Fort Knox than get a toe in some of these heavily guarded fortresses.  Don't think so? Try driving past an American embassy very slowly and then stop near  the entrance.  You'll be greeted by some very surly men carrying seriously regulated firearms growling strong instructions to keep moving.  So it happened to a colleague.  To be fair, there are more people trying to weasel their way into the U.S. than say, Kyrgyzstan  or Burkina Faso, but we Americans  feel a sense of entitlement to our tax-supported government offices. At least I do and when my passport  needed renewing I decided  that Uncle Sam should have the pleasure of doing so personally.
    Not that he wants to.  The website exhorts its beloved citizens to do everything by mail instead of stopping by.  Still want to come in? Book an appointment online through our capitol office 3,000 miles away. Oh, did we mention that our hours are only 8:30a-11:30a, Monday through Thursday? Cool by me as the U.S. Consulate in Perth is in the office building directly behind mine.  Their back windows look into our back windows.  Hey neighbor, I'm coming over for a cup of sugar. Hardly.  Only one person is allowed past the heavy door on the fourth floor at a time where they are screened , their belongings  x-rayed (by a Scotsman) and then tucked into a locker. My cheapy, thin barrettes set off the alarms. The only thing you can retain is your paperwork.   This reception area has about a dozen chairs and some dog-eared National Geographics in it but I am not sure who might using either.
   Next you get escorted by a guard to the 13th floor where a Singaporean  behind thick glass points you to another door leading to a room with more people hiding behind very thick glass. The Australian lady who helps U.S. citizens is nice and extremely efficient.  The other Australian lady who takes your money ($121AUD for a 10-year passport) is also fast and efficient.  The only American accent you'll hear comes from a guy in the middle bullet proof booth who helps non Americans get  visitor visas. All this obscenely thick glass makes private inquiry about your spouse's green card  or your overseas conviction for theft  or your explanation  for letting that passport  get chewed up by your pet bilby difficult. All of this highly secured jockeying  will make you start to think that  those people who choose illegal entry into the U.S. aren't really escaping this bureaucratic noose as much as they are tightening the noose for those who operate above board. I am not impressed.

A happy traveler.

    I was impressed by the speed in which all this happened. I was warned it would take an hour. It took less than 25 minutes.  I was also delighted that my passport photo was accepted by  consular staff.  The American government is starting to join the rest of the world in insisting that passport photos look like tuberculosis patient rolls or recycled gulag IDs.  My photo defies any negative description.  In fact, I was gobsmacked by how good it looks.  I refrain from posting photos of myself but, for the moment, I'll share this one. It's a photograph of a photograph but the poor quality can't hide the "I am happy to be visiting you"  expression.
    All I need now is a plane ticket.