I expected Monday to be an awful day. I expected to buy a one-way plane ticket from my best friend and experience that loss all over again. I expected to turn in his suitcase to some smirking immigration agent. I expected to have another bad episode triggered by what I was told was likely to happen. There was no way on heaven or earth that we could have anticipated what was going to take place.
Alberto called me just as I was leaving Ashley’s Preschool, which was odd as he should have been in route to the USICE holding area for his court appearance by that time. He said that the guys had come at 5 am like usual, but they told him that he didn’t have court today so he didn’t get to go. Naturally he was a little upset, thinking that we received yet another continuance, but I told him I’d do what I could to get to the bottom of it. I asked Alberto to call me back in 30 minutes so I could call Lance to see if he knew what was going on. I went straight to USICE and stared down the guards blocking my entrance. I held back my snappy retort through the sheer force of my will, but I don’t know that I would be that strong if I have to come back again. I swear they must enjoy playing the fool since there is no good reason to spend my days in a building full of irritating and often dense immigration officials just because I want to. The largest guard actually pawed through my purse this time; must be because of the ‘shanks’ I carry to help while away the hours. Lance calls my circular knitting needles my ‘shanks and ligature’ even though the steel barreled pen in my purse is a more formidable weapon in my eyes.