Friday, May 15, 2009

I've been to purgatory, or maybe it was the first level of hell. Perhaps someone with more theological background can help me out with the distinction.

Purgatory is hot. You must surrender all liquids before entering and there are no water fountains. You're told you can't leave until you fill out paperwork in quadruplicate and pay fees. (You thought you already took care of all paperwork and fees in your hometown.) In the meantime, the baby is fussy because he's sick of being in the carrier. The toddler is tired and bored, which means he's whiny. The gatekeepers stare at you while the toddler tries to escape, refuses to sit down, and throws himself down on the ground. Richard Scarry's A Day at the Airport buys you a little time, but purgatory takes longer than that, and it just serves as a reminder that there are jets just past purgatory.

Finally, all the paperwork is filed, the money is counted, passports are stamped, and just before you leave...you realize that the your visas for the next year are single entry and you wanted to go to Thailand for Christmas break. But a multiple entry visa would require more time, more money, probably more forms and both children are completely freaking out by this point. You decide that Thailand is over rated.


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