Hell is an Immigration waiting room
I can finally say it.
It's over.
That's right, JD is officially a Permanent Resident of the good ole U.S. of A. After many, many forms and fees. After (literal) blood, sweat and tears. We are done. We can live our lives as if we haven't done something wrong. Without feeling guilty for no reason. JD can start to move forward. He can pursue acting without worrying if his work authorization will run out, or if he will have to give up a job in order to go back to Canada. Can you believe it?
The process, in the end, was relatively painless. But during? Different story.
JD had to go up to Montreal a week before his immigration interview, in order to take a medical exam. (thus the "blood" part of the blood, sweat and tears) He then spent the rest of the time wandering around Montreal. Luckily, he had lovely, warm weather. He quickly found a few comic book stores, some movie theaters and some good eats. I met him on Sunday, and was greeted by cold, rainy, windy weather for my portion of the trip. Montreal was still fun, just a little chilly.
On Monday, we headed to the US Consulate where we went through metal detectors, had a few items taken from us and generally felt like criminals for no reason. Then we began the process of waiting. We sat in a room full of people waiting to have similar interviews as us. All staring at the little screen that lets you know when your number is called. In this room, everyone is trying to look calm and happy. They have stoic little smiles on their faces, but if you look closely there is a noticeable glimmer of fear in their eyes. They are all clutching a little too tightly, to the files and folders in their hands. Every so often an annoying buzz sounds, indicating a new number has come up on the screen. But it's never yours. Yes, this waiting room is very possibly hell.
Once our number was called, we headed over to a little window where a woman went over our all our papers. She checked some original documents, had us pay a little more money, and then sent us to wait for a while longer. At this point we were feeling pretty confident, but still prepared for anything. When our number was finally called again, we entered a little room. JD was asked a few questions, held up his right hand and swore that all documents where genuine and all information was accurate, they took his fingerprints, and VOILA. When we exited the room we decided we had to hide our excitement because it would be cruel for the poor souls still waiting. As soon as we entered the elevators we jumped around a little and giggled.
We celebrated by having an amazing dinner in Old Montreal at a restaurant called Chez L'EĀpicier. Everything was great, but I think the highlight was the medley of Creme Brulees". It was a little tray with four cups of Creme Brulee- Vanilla, Orange, Coffee, Chocolate. Holy. It was good. And the coffee? Just about worth flying to Montreal for.
Other Notes and Highlights:
- Montreal smoked meat sandwiches= Awesome
- The men of Montreal are quite possibly more fashionable then the women. Very Metro. Nice.
- The faux hawk is definitely in. On women, as well as men. Hip.
- Montrealers are a little more European when it comes to porn. Lots of peep shows all along the main strip, nudey photos and all.
- Montreal bagels=tasty
- The main downtown had a very similar feel to Vancouver.
- Montreal traffic? Hellish
- Border people? Very nice
- Canadian dollar? Much stronger than back in the day, but that exchange rate still takes the edge off a little.
- And?
- Tim Hortons
- trying not to look wind-blown and cold.
- girly bathroom graffiti (note the Modest Mouse quote)
-mmm...swartz's smoked meat sandwiches
-Ben's deli. Good old school charm
JD's celebratory cigarette and strawberry milk
Rock.
