I went to the American embassy the other day to pick up my new passport. It was actually a fast and painless visit to American Citizen Services, but in handing all my papers back and forth, I misplaced the claim slip to get my iPod back from security. The claim ticket was actually half a Post-it with the number 10 written on it in blue pen, but without it, the security guard didn’t want to release my MP3 player into my custody.
Actually, he clearly wanted to give my iPod to me, but he was afraid to hand it over without the claim ticket. I might be a master thief who pretends to renew her passport all the time in order to gain access to the little plastic baskets of electronics that aren’t allowed into ACS compound.
“If you could just show me that it’s really your player, I could give it to you,” the guard said awkwardly.
I told him that I had the local times for Beijing, New York, Mumbai and Denver saved, and the guard agreed that was distinctive enough information to consider it mine.
Why Denver? Ian’s curious.
Hugo and Diana, our friends from college, moved out to Denver in August. (We tried to convince them to move to China instead, but she’s going to grad school)
Bombay’s from when Bethie was living there.