|Rehoboth Beach Post Office this morning, this must be the place!|
This morning I applied for my first ever passport at the Rehoboth Beach post office.
As you may (or may not) know I'm planning a trip to Toronto Canada
|Pat's "hoose" in Toronto, Canada|
late this summer to hookup with my friend Pat and meet Dr. Spo and Someone who will be in Toronto at the same time. Sort of like a mini Bloggerpalooza.
I've been experiencing a fair amount of frustration in getting my U.S. Passport. First thing I needed was my birth certificate. I only have one copy which I didn't want to part with so way back March I wrote to the Pennsylvania Department of Records to get more copies (two) of my birth certificate. Of course that didn't go well which was not unexpected because I assume the powers that be in Pennsylvania are more concerned with suppressing the vote and filing delaying tactics against same sex marriage. My first applicate was returned because they didn't like the copy of my driver's license. I sent them a new copy, in color. That was month ago. They cashed my $20 check two weeks ago but I'm still waiting.
Dr. Spo told me that Someone
|Dr. Spo and Someone - International travelers soon to visit Toronto in August|
I got there at 8:45 am. They weren't open (of course). So I got in line behind this young man in semi-Army fatigues. Me being me I attempted to start a conversation while we waited for the Post Office to open. I asked him if he was an Iraqi veteran. He said he was. I thanked him for his service. I then began to talk to him about the VA and other issue related to both of our experiences with the Army but he didn't want to talk. Okay, I'm fine with that. Probably thought I was hitting on him. This is Rehoboth Beach after all, lot's of Old Gays hitting on young guys. Not me though, I like my own age group but that's another whole subject for a different blog posting.
Finally at 9:02 a.m (and not a minute before) the window opens. By now the line waiting has eight chatty people in it. The Iraqi war vet is first. He doesn't take too long to do his business. He doesn't say "goodbye" to me. I didn't expect him to. Then I'm next.
I flop my plastic folder full of information proving I am who I am (birth certificate, Army DD-214, five envelopes with my mailing address, original Social Security card and even the "birth certificate" with my baby footprints). I tell her that I'm applying for my passport. Immediately she takes out a multiple form and tells me what to fill out and "don't go past that line!" Thankfully she knew what I was talking about, I didn't have to explain myself or worse, I wasn't told that I was at the wrong place (which I half expected). To the contrary, she was very efficient.