The Lady Cop

In the last epidsode of Marisa's Misadventures in Mexico, we left off at the United States consulate. I waltzed back into the sad little office in the sad little building and laid the photos in front of angry lady. She had me fill out the most monotonous forms you can imagine, and then asked me how I'd like to pay for the passport. I asked if I could use a card (since I had all of the information on a card back home) even though I already knew the answer. The woman started shaking her head at me before I could even get the whole question out. So I laid all the money I had on the counter. She then oh-so-lovingly informed me that there were two issues: first, some of the cash was in pesos, and some in dollars. It had to be entirely in pesos. Second, I was EXACTLY ten dollars short because I had spent it on my second set of passport pictures. What kind of insane cosmic injustice is that?! At that moment, I wanted to throw a cinder block at consulate lady. Unfortunately, none were lying around. I asked her if the bank would let me accept a wire transfer as long as I brought my passport copy and she just shrugged and said "hm, probably not." Can you even wrap your mind around how wonderfully helpful she was?? What an angel.

I now realize why the consulate was in the same building as a liquor store- after the horrendous experience all I wanted to do was down some tequila, even though I would have puked it right up.

So I stormed out and walked across the street to the bank. My friend had already completed the wire transfer on his end, I just had to pick it up. I walked up to an open banker and told her my name and said I needed to pick up a wire transfer. She said she needed to see an official passport first. I showed her the copy and guess what she gave me? Yup, the "look," and probably one of the worst ones I'd gotten on the entire trip. I tried to explain to her the insanity of the situation, and how it was a stupid Catch 22 that I needed an official passport to get the money that I needed to get the passport. Her vacant expression told me she had long ago mentally checked out of that conversation. I could feel slight panic begin to well up within me. It was really, truly looking like I was out of luck and would have to cash in my life in the US for one in Mexico.

The other task I had to do before leaving Mexico was file a police report to show them at immigration at the airport. So I figured I may as well do that since the police department was nearby and it was something I could shockingly do for free. I went into the wrong part of the building and they told me where to go, so I entered some little room and a lady asked how she could help. I began recalling my tale, describing the robbery in the best Spanish I could muster. As I told the story, I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes. I tried so hard to keep the food gates closed, but alas, the tears came careening down. She gently patted my arm, and after my story I told her what was going on right now with all of the passport nonsense and how there was no way for me to get a wire transfer. She looked at me with a gentle, calm expression and told me to tell someone in the United States to send money to her, since she had an ID. She let me snap a photo of her license (which showed a great deal of trust if you ask me) to send to whomever would wire the money.

My parents wired money to her, and she and I walked over to the bank together. Since I had just been there trying to get money, she told me she thought I should wait outside lest I look suspicious. While waiting outside, it was taking a bit longer than I felt it should. I started to worry that I had been screwed over again and that she had taken the money and gone out some other door. Right as that thought hit me, however, she returned with all of the cash I needed. I gave her one of those hugs that you REALLY mean, the kind you give someone when they have done something truly above and beyond (like, saving me from an eternity in Cancun).

Oh, one last little tidbit about the horrible consulate woman is how unnecessarily rude to me when I asked her if, since I was in the consulate, I was technically in the United States. She gave me an unnecessary stink eye and told me that that was just a dumb myth (but with her weird gross accent it sounded like "mitt"). Way to burst my bubble, lady. Some people...

Anyhow, with the proper amount of money in hand, (thankfully I had a different lady helping me this time and she was MUCH nice) the only thing I had left to do was raise my right hand and swear that I didn't do anything in Mexico to jeopardize my United States citizenship. She then told me where to go to pick up the passport which would arrive in 24 hours. Then she just HAD to add "although, sometimes the delivery truck gets a flat." Thanks for those words of encouragement...

I was still sick as dog, vomiting water and anything I tried to eat, so I spent the rest of my day lying in bed in my hotel room watching American news which depressed me, so I switched to Coraline, which is probably one of the creepiest movies I have ever seen.

Creepiest. Movie. Ever.

So, did the passport arrive on time? Tune in next time to find out!