It is the morning of my biometrics appointment.
I set out to walk to the USCIS office. They don't let you bring in your cell phone, or any other equipment, so I think I'll just leave my travel bag with the hotel front desk, like I have done a bunch of times before.
The answer is, "Sorry, we don't do this after nine-eleven."
Okay, so I ask them to keep an eye on my Miata, which I park in front of their office in a spot sprinkled with broken car window glass--very reassuring--and head over to the fingerprinting place.
It's only down the block and to the right from the hotel, and I walk fast, but even in this short time I manage to attract more cluelessness.
A green sedan cruises up, the window rolls down, and a guy leans out.
"Hey sex, what's going on?" he then inquires.
I look at him, then look ahead, never slowing down.
"I was talking to you babe!" he demands.
"So what?" I blurt out and walk away.
Fingerprinting is then done fast and without incident, and I thought that would be the main event of the day.
So I get back to my car, find all my belongings still intact and drive off.