The Embassy

July 30, 2008 | Filed Under Main |

In the Middle East, all the airports LOVE to stamp your passport. Stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp! Thus my formerly little used passport now had about three clean pages left (they also paste your visa in there). I learned that you can add pages to your passport at the Embassy, so I went over there today. I also had never been to an Embassy before. I seemed like a cool idea to check it out.

First, I made an appointment – which is key to getting into an embassy of any kind. It wasn’t hard to find as Kuwait is actually pretty small. I didn’t get lost once. I DID go into the wrong entrance first – thinking that the maze of jersey barriers was a dead giveaway. But actually the entrance I wanted was down the road about 100 yards into the open parking lot. Once you get to the gate, the security guys (not American) drive you in a little golf cart to the front doors… all 20 yards. It’s a rule. They let you off 15 seconds later in front of the big “Embassy of the United States of America” sign and a leftover tank from the Gulf War. Then you walk over to the dark, plexi glass station to more security (not American) and show them your appointment. Then you go into a line, as you are allowed in one at a time through the door. But this was just the metal detector and, carrying a blue tray of the contents from your pocket, you go outside again and head to the Embassy (of course refilling your pockets and leaving the blue tray on the table outside the door). I started to walk toward the main entrance of this two story adobe-looking building when another security guard (not American) pointed off to the side. I went over to the door marked “Consular Services” and entered a small space that could pass for Motor Vehicles anywhere in the States. There were two areas filled with folding chairs facing walls with two plexi-glass windows in each. AND NO ONE THERE WAS AMERICAN! Here I am in the American Embassy and STILL the only white man in the room.

I took a number and sat. Not long though. The guy at the window took my passport and my form and told me to come back in about three or four hours. Short, terse, no conversation. I came back later and the passport was retrieved outside where I started – after another 15 second ride in a golf cart. (Granted, when I came back there were one or two Americans picking up their extended passports)

So once again a shot at adventure was blow out of the sky by bland tedium. God help you if you actually needed this place for something important. Without a form - you’re lost.

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