Last month I received a letter from USCIS, announcing that I should go to New Rochelle for my biometrics on September 18th, 9 am, to finally get my work permit after 3 months. It was on a Tuesday -- one of work days for John. He took the day off and we woke up with red, puffy eyes around 7, hurried into our black Honda Civic, and hit the road around 7:30.
Now, since I was confident that we could find the right road to New Rochelle using the MapQuest directions I had printed the night before, I figured out we would arrive there at least 10 minutes sooner than scheduled. So, I just sat back and enjoyed the scenery, while John was multi-tasking as usual: talking to me, cursing the bad drivers who wanted to race with us, and of course, driving.
I had the task of reading the directions aloud, and since most Persians genetically ( and thus inevitably) have no idea about timing, I was shouting the names of the roads and streets at least 10 minutes before us actually approaching them. John kept asking me the same question, though, "What's next?" since he is genetically (and again, inevitably) one step ahead of the conventional Newtonian time, as we know of it in this mortal world.
Anyway... I ended up shouting the number of a highway that was literally non-existant. No matter how hard we tried to find it by staring at the road signs from miles away (much like birds of prey), we did not see that particular number anywhere. John got exhausted and we pulled over somewhere, so that he could call his Indian friend, Ossie, to ask him about it.
I guess it was the first time I truly realized what an advantage it was to have an Asian friend in the US. Asian mind-frame is totally different from American mind-frame. Unlike most Americans, Asians usually do not pay attention to road signs and indications, since they can not find any earthly reason to trust someone else' genius (in this case a traffic law-maker) when they themselves have the utmost insight to devise the appropriate law as it is needed at any time. Perhaps that's why they seldom carry a MapQuest document and they almost never get lost.
So, Ossie told John that we could get to that apparently "non-existent" highway by taking a short-cut from the road we were already on. So we set for that... and right in the moment that John was supposed to use an exit, a highly-respectful driver with a red-&-white headband, long black mustache and glittering mercury sunglasses totally blocked us and did not let us pass. For the next 10 minutes John was like a rooster getting roasted on fire: "@&%$@!" [I am censoring his words, since I have peaceful purposes, nothing else).
It took us 20 minutes just to get back to the original road, and it was already 10 past 9. Finally, we arrived in New Rochelle and since John and Tina are the luckiest people on earth, they were blocking some of the streets and were constructing new buildings right in the middle of the town, so my MapQuest directions were sheer useless.
We turned around and around and around, and I made "Nazr" to get my biometrics done with no fuss (It was mentioned on the appointment letter that any delay might cause the whole case to be dismissed): "God, please... show us the right way, and if everything goes fine, I will promise to read the 30th section of Qoran to celebrate Thy Grandeur."
We arrived there finally, 10 minutes to 10. I was (rather un-) kindly greeted at the office's door by an African-American officer. It was finally done: Some Indian lady took a full-frontal face digital photo of me, and I also passed the 10-digit finger printing process. We were back to the maze of New Rochelle's streets in 20 minutes, anyway.
We stopped somewhere to have our favorite Greek food, gyro and fries. So far, this is almost the only red-meat food John can stand, since it is lamb --hail the King! Villagers like me would be satisfied with beef, too.
That was only half of the story, so far. The second half began when John lied back in the car, his sunglasses hiding his dark charming eyes, throwing back his elbows impatiently, groaning: "I don't wanna go back to that crazy road!" The sun was already in my eyes, annoying me, making me want to shout "Let's just get the hell outta here! I just wanna get back home and take a nap" But being the angel-wife I am, I started rubbing his head instead, whispering softly, "It's ok dear... Do you want to take a nap here? I can sit in the back and give you a nice head-and-shoulder massage" He dismissed my suggestion immediately, straightening up in the seat, sighing, "Let's go".
On the way back, we were both so exhausted that we hardly spoke a word. Finally, I saw the familiar road signs, indicating that we were in Dutchess County. How pacifying it was! The closer we were getting to home, the less cars and trucks were racing with us. Finally, we were on this tiny road 3 minutes away from home... it was just us, and possibly a nosy squirrel watching us from the top a tree somewhere. "Thank God...we're back, finally," I said. "We're getting pulled over," John said in response. In the mirror, I saw a police car signalling us to stop. John thought it was his friend, at first, since one of his highschool friends has ended up being a police officer, and apparently, he had let John go once he had been speeding. But that was our lucky day, anyway. "No, it's not him," John said half-relieved, half-anxious, expecting heavenly favors showering him when he was driving 45 miles per hour instead of 30.
He went to the court couple of days ago (Tuesday), and he was fined 140$ for speeding on that road. Now that I think about it, New Rochelle wouldn't be a town I want to visit this soon, again, and I still get a bit anxious on Tuesdays. Somehow, it's all USCIS' fault, sending me all the way there, to New Rochelle on that Tuesday ;-)
Now, since I was confident that we could find the right road to New Rochelle using the MapQuest directions I had printed the night before, I figured out we would arrive there at least 10 minutes sooner than scheduled. So, I just sat back and enjoyed the scenery, while John was multi-tasking as usual: talking to me, cursing the bad drivers who wanted to race with us, and of course, driving.
I had the task of reading the directions aloud, and since most Persians genetically ( and thus inevitably) have no idea about timing, I was shouting the names of the roads and streets at least 10 minutes before us actually approaching them. John kept asking me the same question, though, "What's next?" since he is genetically (and again, inevitably) one step ahead of the conventional Newtonian time, as we know of it in this mortal world.
Anyway... I ended up shouting the number of a highway that was literally non-existant. No matter how hard we tried to find it by staring at the road signs from miles away (much like birds of prey), we did not see that particular number anywhere. John got exhausted and we pulled over somewhere, so that he could call his Indian friend, Ossie, to ask him about it.
I guess it was the first time I truly realized what an advantage it was to have an Asian friend in the US. Asian mind-frame is totally different from American mind-frame. Unlike most Americans, Asians usually do not pay attention to road signs and indications, since they can not find any earthly reason to trust someone else' genius (in this case a traffic law-maker) when they themselves have the utmost insight to devise the appropriate law as it is needed at any time. Perhaps that's why they seldom carry a MapQuest document and they almost never get lost.
So, Ossie told John that we could get to that apparently "non-existent" highway by taking a short-cut from the road we were already on. So we set for that... and right in the moment that John was supposed to use an exit, a highly-respectful driver with a red-&-white headband, long black mustache and glittering mercury sunglasses totally blocked us and did not let us pass. For the next 10 minutes John was like a rooster getting roasted on fire: "@&%$@!" [I am censoring his words, since I have peaceful purposes, nothing else).
It took us 20 minutes just to get back to the original road, and it was already 10 past 9. Finally, we arrived in New Rochelle and since John and Tina are the luckiest people on earth, they were blocking some of the streets and were constructing new buildings right in the middle of the town, so my MapQuest directions were sheer useless.
We turned around and around and around, and I made "Nazr" to get my biometrics done with no fuss (It was mentioned on the appointment letter that any delay might cause the whole case to be dismissed): "God, please... show us the right way, and if everything goes fine, I will promise to read the 30th section of Qoran to celebrate Thy Grandeur."
We arrived there finally, 10 minutes to 10. I was (rather un-) kindly greeted at the office's door by an African-American officer. It was finally done: Some Indian lady took a full-frontal face digital photo of me, and I also passed the 10-digit finger printing process. We were back to the maze of New Rochelle's streets in 20 minutes, anyway.
We stopped somewhere to have our favorite Greek food, gyro and fries. So far, this is almost the only red-meat food John can stand, since it is lamb --hail the King! Villagers like me would be satisfied with beef, too.
That was only half of the story, so far. The second half began when John lied back in the car, his sunglasses hiding his dark charming eyes, throwing back his elbows impatiently, groaning: "I don't wanna go back to that crazy road!" The sun was already in my eyes, annoying me, making me want to shout "Let's just get the hell outta here! I just wanna get back home and take a nap" But being the angel-wife I am, I started rubbing his head instead, whispering softly, "It's ok dear... Do you want to take a nap here? I can sit in the back and give you a nice head-and-shoulder massage" He dismissed my suggestion immediately, straightening up in the seat, sighing, "Let's go".
On the way back, we were both so exhausted that we hardly spoke a word. Finally, I saw the familiar road signs, indicating that we were in Dutchess County. How pacifying it was! The closer we were getting to home, the less cars and trucks were racing with us. Finally, we were on this tiny road 3 minutes away from home... it was just us, and possibly a nosy squirrel watching us from the top a tree somewhere. "Thank God...we're back, finally," I said. "We're getting pulled over," John said in response. In the mirror, I saw a police car signalling us to stop. John thought it was his friend, at first, since one of his highschool friends has ended up being a police officer, and apparently, he had let John go once he had been speeding. But that was our lucky day, anyway. "No, it's not him," John said half-relieved, half-anxious, expecting heavenly favors showering him when he was driving 45 miles per hour instead of 30.
He went to the court couple of days ago (Tuesday), and he was fined 140$ for speeding on that road. Now that I think about it, New Rochelle wouldn't be a town I want to visit this soon, again, and I still get a bit anxious on Tuesdays. Somehow, it's all USCIS' fault, sending me all the way there, to New Rochelle on that Tuesday ;-)
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