"My Passport, Please"
June 10, 2007
“Did you apply from Colorado?” the passport agent asked me, as she searched her list for my name. “I can’t fine your renewal in the system.”
My throat tightened.
“No,” I said. “North Carolina.”
“Hmm...”
“I know I’m in the system,” I said. “When we called yesterday they told me my application had been received, but processing hadn’t started yet. I’m in there somewhere.”
“I’ll check back with you,” she said.
“Don’t tell me they’re going to screw this up too,” said my daughter, once the woman was out of earshot. Olivia had driven with me to Washington DC the night before so that we could stand in this line to fight for an emergency 1-day turn-around on my passport renewal.
I was leaving the country in a week, on a business trip, but even though I had applied months earlier, my passport wouldn’t be ready for three to four weeks. My only hope, they had told me, was to secure a letter from my Congressman (thank you, David Price’s office!) and get myself up to Washington to stand in this line, at the passport office on 19th Street, until somebody gave me my passport.
Apparently, all over the country, thousands of passport seekers were being given the same desperation drill. We had been warned to arrive early. Yesterday, by 8 AM, the line had snaked for three blocks.
So here we were, finally feeling secure, hopeful even. It was 8:30 AM and we had moved to the short line, the line for those with Congressional letters.
Now this…Colorado?
As bad as my story seems, others were worse. Nothing breeds camaraderie and story swapping like a long line of angry people, all of whom feel equally wronged by a stupid yet powerful bureaucracy.
“You’re telling me my passport was FedExed yesterday,” a young man said, his pale cheeks darkening. “You mean I drove all the way from South Carolina last night to find out my passport was sent yesterday. Why didn’t they tell me that on the phone?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t work for FedEX,” the uniformed passport woman said.
“I don’t believe this?” the man said.
“Sir, please.”
“THIS IS ABSURD,” the man yelled. THANK YOU GEORGE BUSH.” And he strode out of the building.
“He’s lucky he didn’t get arrested,” an older woman mumbled.
Down the line sat a couple from Florida. The woman, clearly twenty years older than the attractive young guy beside her, was flirting. “Please don’t call me m’am. It makes me feel old.”
“I can’t help it. My mamma taught me to say m’am.”
“Well your mamma’s not here,” the woman said, then added, “Can you autograph this too—for my cousin.”
She passed him a blank envelope.
The guy turned out to be Chris Richardson, a recent Americal Idol finalist. He’d been signing autographs all morning.
A gray-haired, disheveled man looked up and down the line and started talking to everyone. “Hey, did anyone get this—you call for two hours, then a human finally answers the phone and says, ‘The system’s down. Call back in an hour.’ And they hang up. Click.
“I got that,” Olivia said. She had called continuously for me--for four hours.
Okay, what’s going on? Why the backlog, long lines, ridiculous screw-ups? It’s called “The Western Hemisphere Travel Initiative.” Bottom line: for better border security, many more Americans need passports. Applications are way up, but the Government didn’t supply enough staff to handle the surge. And according to one Republican senator, there’s a turf war between the State Department and Homeland Security—one that, of course, both deny.
At 1:15 PM, the uniformed woman appeared, began reading off names, and handing out passports.
“Andrews. Wright. American Idol!” We all laughed. “Henderson.”
Yes! It was done—and accurate. (One woman’s hadn’t been.)
Phew...
But wait.
Two days later, priority mail, I received ANOTHER passport—my original renewal. Are they both good? Which one should I use? How many other folks are getting duplicate passports? And what are they worth?
Way to protect the borders, Homeland Security. Duplicate passports. What do you say to that?
Oh, of course. It’s State Department’s fault.
Click.
