Today, I stood in line for a combined total of 4 hours to get the last step of my student visa, the notorious and much sought after "NIE." While I still don't really know what that stands for (residency number?), all that matters now is that I have it, and I never have to go back again to that sick twisted insanity-inducing police station.
This step, mind you, is the last step in a long line of Consulate visits, deadlines, fees, and mountains of paperwork to make sure I can stay in Spain (legally) for the year. Believe me, during this whole process, which began last March, I've definitely debated being a stow away on a ship and living behind Camp Nou, the Barcelona fútbol stadium, or just staying in California and dropping EAP all together. Yes, it was that bad, but so far it's definitely been worth it.
Anyway, my day began at 6 30 this morning, I woke up at this ungodly hour because our advisors had told other students to get there early, for fear of lines, and me, being the chronic procrastinator that I am, was rewarded for procrastinating with stories from my friends who spent more than 5 hours in line at the police station. They spent 5 hours there because they were only one hour early, and apparently not early enough. So I wake up at 6 30, leave at 7, and eventually find the police station at 7 30, where I am greeted by one of the most massive lines that I have ever seen in my life. This guy wrapped around multiple blocks already, and I was an hour and a half early. If there were a Disney Land ride giving away chocolate-soaked-hundred dollar bills, there would still not be a line as long and disillusioning as this one. Well, the next four hours played out as follows;
7:30 am - I accidentally cut in front of everyone and go to the front of the line. They laugh at the silly American and tell me to get in the back. Glad I could give them some Comedic relief. I walk to the back, hop in line, prepared with my coffee, homework, and an Ipod full of Red Hot Chili Peppers. At this point, I'm just really excited to be done with this process, but then again I'm still slightly delirious because it's still dark outside, and I haven't been up this early in years.
8:00 - I read my homework and my butt starts to fall asleep on the cement. They're only letting 100 foreigners in at a time, but "Can't Stop" comes on and I get distracted.
8:30 - The line moves, I find a change of scenery. I am now facing a giant Spanish underwear ad. Obviously, I stop reading my homework, and I'm officially distracted from the lack of sensation in my butt and the massive butt of a Spanish model on the wall in front of me. I hear the Russian girls behind me whisper something and look at me. I giggle and blush uncontrollably.
8:45 - At this point, I've been here for a little over an hour, and I've had a bottle of water, and a coffee. My bladder begins to subtly hint at my poor breakfast decisions, but the hypnotic harmonies of the Chili Peppers keep me distracted. I make friends with the Italian guy in front of me. We unsuccessfully hit on the Russian girls.
9:05 - I see an American friend. He looks at me, looks at the line, looks at me again, and says, "shit." Guess he'll be here for 5 hours. Maybe he'll get lucky and get deported so he doesn't have to deal with this line.
9:30 - This is where things get interesting. I've been in line for two hours at this point, and only moved about 20 feet. Two Russian guys cut in front of me and my new Italian friend. Italian friend gets mad and yells at them in Spanish. My only thought is trying to cork the geyser of a piss that is getting ready to explode like Mt. Saint Helens in my bladder. I turn up my music, and begin to wonder what is in Spanish Coffee.
9:33 - I go 'silent-but-deadly' on the two Russian line cutters. That one was for you, Kennedy. 'Murica.
9:45 - The line moves alot, I get a number, and get sent to a waiting room. I feel like a cow in a herd of cattle. I'm excited, and forget about my discomfort. They give me #A20, this number is now my life.
10:00 - I make friends with a Macedonian girl. They speak Macedonian in Macedonia, go figure. She says I sound like a typical Californian boy. I tell her Macedonian sounds like Russian. She didn't like that.
10:13 - Luckily my American friend gets into the same waiting room as me, because the Macedonian girl looks like she is about to go Cold War on me. Fear keeps me from having to use the non-existent bathroom.
10:45 - Just as I begin to think that time has stopped existing, and that this windowless waiting room might actually be some stage of purgatory, I get called by a lady. She gives me a new number 'D74.' I go to a new waiting room. "Otherside" comes on, go figure.
10:50 - I get to the new waiting room, and I remember my bladder, which is stabbing me repeatedly in the gut, wreaking havoc on anything close to it, as if it were the Hoover dam and both of the polar ice caps had just melted.
11 - I start to sweat. At least they're already on number 55.
11:15 - I switch to Metallica. Never in my life has there been a more fitting time for Metal.
11:20 - They are 4 numbers away from mine, on 69. I bury my head into my homework and struggle to focus. I blast my music. I begin to wonder if I'll get deported if my bladder bursts.
11:30 - I look up and see that they skipped to 75. I missed my number. I have just waited 4 hours to miss my number. No.
11:31 - I hobble to the desk, squirming uncontrollably and luckily she tells me I can still get my NIE. At least that's what I think she said. She probably told me where the bathroom was, I wouldn't have known differently at that point. That or she asked me if i was trying to smuggle something into Barcelona, legally of course.
11: 35 - She tells me I have the wrong paper. By the look on my face and the string of English cuss words I whisper under my breath, I think I convince her to rethink her unfortunate decision.
11:40 - She says everything is working out, I imagine what the bathroom will feel like after this.
11:42 - Another hiccup with my paper work. Apparently it says "matriculate" instead of "exchange." I give her the look. Lucky for her, she says everything is ok.
11:45 - I finally get my NIE and say thanks for the heart attack and future kidney problems. I run to the nearest bathroom, as a Spanish resident.
So I finally emerge from the police station, or one of the many waiting rooms, as a legal Spanish resident, and dear god, in that moment, I took the most victorious, refreshing, glorious pee of my entire life. As I stood there, emptying liters upon liters (metric system, no big deal) of what may or may not have been a mixture of coffee and radioactive waste, 'Scar Tissue' comes on and I have an epiphany.
Here's the song, play it right now to set the mood for my epiphany in the next paragraph. (And they have a new album out, I'm With You, if you're interested)
If I could barely do this, with an ipod, snacks, plenty to keep me busy, and a decent grasp of the Spanish language, imagine what it must be like to wait in a 4 hour endurance line with two hungry children, or a pregnant wife, or a sick parent in tow? Or what if you couldn't understand the language, like many immigrants in California, how could you possibly know what papers to bring, or the difference between 'matriculate' and 'exchange?' Imagine if you had just spent the last few hours crossing the border in the back of a pickup truck? What if you just finished smuggling radioactive coffee over the border and for some reason wanted to become a legal citizen at that point? Sparing my dramatic embellishments, I can no longer deny or ignore the plight of the immigrant. Immigrants have a tough time guys, and I know, from personal experience, that most of us definitely do not spare them any empathy or any shred of compassion, whatsoever. My slight discomfort during this process was only a glimpse into the many obstacles that immigrants face on a daily basis, and I gained alot of respect for immigrants through this whole process of obtaining my student visa and NIE. Not only did it take money, time, and help from college advisors, and of course my mother, but it literally made me use every resource I take for granted; two devoted parents, cars, a job to pay for miscellaneous costs, advisers holding my hand every step of the way, and a schedule that left enough time to fit it all in. Remember I'm here in Spain to study, and for fun, and for many immigrants, their lives and families depend on getting into the new country. And they most definitely do not have advisors to call at 3 in the morning, desperately trying to meet a deadline or to help you express ship two pieces of paper to Washington D.C. for 70 dollars. I'm glad I'm here, because I wouldn't have had this epiphany without the whole process.
| Here's a view from the roof-top terrace of my Apartment, yes, that is Gaudi's La Sagrada | Familia in the background. |
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Word of the Day: Cola - Line (The type you wait in)
Estaba en la cola del diablo por cuatro horas este mañana. I was in the line of the devil for four hours this morning.
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