(Both titles fit. You choose.)The Hong Kong/Beijing trip came up so quickly that getting a Chinese visa meant one of two things: Either hand my passport to UPS or FedEx in hopes it wouldn’t be lost in transit (too late to replace) or fly to the nearest Chinese Consulate, ie, Chicago. I opted for the latter, resulting in one of the most bizarre days of my life....
4:00 a.m.
Well, actually 3:45 a.m., since I wake up before the alarm goes off. Into the shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, head to airport.
5:50 a.m.
Find great parking place at airport...and longest lines I’ve ever seen at security. Lots of camera crews around since NWA/Delta merger was announced overnight.
6:30 a.m.
Finally clear security, race to gate, get there as they’re boarding.
7:00 a.m.
In the air, all is well. I’m off to the Chinese Consulate!
8:30 a.m.
On the train, then the El. Spend the hour-long commute talking to Chris on the cell. Very nice start to the day.
9:20 a.m.
Arrive at Consulate, find only a few people in the waiting room ahead of me, pull number from little machine (think: DMV). Looks like I might be able to catch the 2:40 flight home. All is well...until I read the piece of paper taped to the front door. As of 9:00 a.m. this morning the requirements for application have changed. In addition to the documents listed on their website (as recently as Sunday evening), they now need copies of the airline and hotel confirmations. Not dates and numbers—actual document copies—which are safe and sound in the big travel folder in Minneapolis. Consulate attendant gives me their fax number for copies to be sent to—they have no internet access. I sit down and start dialing phone numbers.
9:30 a.m.
Call NWA. Get agent who says they can’t fax documents—only email. Get a second agent. Start begging. Pleading. Cajoling. He puts me on hold. Comes back. On hold. Back. Hold. Back. After fifteen minutes, has found a way to fax. NOW, I ask “Can you access the China Southern records for the connection from Hong Kong to Beijing?” since the two airlines are partners. “Oh...um...no, we can’t.” I plead. Another five minutes on hold. Back. Hold. Back. No clue how he pulled it off, but he did, and is faxing the entire itinerary to the consulate. WHEW.
10:09 a.m.
Look up to see my number has come and gone.
10:10 a.m.
Call Westin to get fax of hotel confirmation. Get tangled in four hundred layers of automated “Please push 2” menus. Am watching cell battery dwindle fast (an ongoing problem with my phone frying batteries). Worried I’ll lose the phone soon. Go to Plan B.
10:15 a.m.
Need to find someone in front of a computer with a nearby fax machine. Call Jenn at home. No answer. Call Greg at work. He answers, but is in a meeting. Transfer to Beth in the office, who gets online, goes to the Starwood site, and is ready to pull up my confirmation to fax....requiring the Starwood password, which is stored on the laptop at home. Won’t work. Back to calling Westin.
10:25 a.m.
Call Westin. Do the “Please push 2” dance. Get agent who says they can’t fax, only email (do we sense a theme here?). Am transferred to Corporate Services. He CAN fax. I grab a new number from the queue machine while we talk. Cell phone is now down to one bar of power after 15 minutes with Starwood.
10:40 a.m.
Can see the pace of things has changed dramatically in an hour and a half. The room is now jam packed, with only one window processing visa applications (at a snail’s pace). This will be a long haul. Settle in to watch news on muted waiting room television.
11:45 a.m.
Consulate attendant announces office will close at 12:00 for lunch. Told to hang onto our numbers, since they’ll resume at 1:00. On the way out the door to stretch my legs, ask attendant if 1:00 really means 1:00 since I’m only a couple of numbers away. Find out that it does...and that I still don’t have everything I need. NOW the price is $135, not $130. And I need to have a money order—not a credit or debit card. And same day service has been temporarily suspended (?!?!?!?!?!?!?). Will also need an overnight FedEx envelope for them to send the documents to me in time for my trip. Nearest post office is three blocks away, can offer both, which surprises me since USPS and FedEx are competitors.
12:00 noon
Race down the street to the post office...then realize this is the same post office that has 2-hours waits, according to the news watched in the waiting room. It’s April 15th. Tax day. Great.
12:05 p.m.
Bolt into packed post office, get in line with half of Chicago, and start praying. See small sales area nearby with stamps, decorative wrap, etc. Jump in there, find out I can get what I need, and take a breath...until I find out they don’t accept credit cards for money orders. Try my debit card next. It declines. Twice (using a pin instead of running it like a charge card does that). Dig out nearly all the cash in my wallet, pay for $135 money order and USPS overnight envelope (no, they don’t sell FedEx). Run back to consulate, via McDonald’s, another three blocks in the opposite direction.
1:00 p.m.
Number calling resumes.
1:15 p.m.
I’m up at the window, all my faxes and documents in hand. At last. Hope.
1:16 p.m.
The processor behind the window says all documents are in order. Breathing now....
1:17 p.m.
...until he informs me they’re keeping my passport. I explain the whole reason I flew to Chicago to do this was to avoid the risk of a carrier losing the passport so close to my departure date. They need to hang onto the passport. I need to hang onto the passport. Tears well in my eyes (seriously). He slips into back room. Comes back. We negotiate. Back to the back room. Back to me. More negotiating. He asks what time today’s flight departs, then suddenly slides the money order and mailer back to me, quietly tells me to sit down and that he’ll make it work. Not sure what that means, but am willing to wait.
2:00 p.m.
Since (a) the office is going to close in 30 minutes, (b) I need to leave for Midway in 15 minutes, and (c) the line at the pickup window stretches the entire length of the room, figure I better jump in. They don’t call names; people just show up, get in line, and get their passports/visas. Odd, but I get the impression this is going to be my new “normal” for a few weeks.
2:25 p.m.
Still in the pickup line, which has stalled, now that I’m third from the window. In the course of conversation with two men in front of me, they learn I’ve been here all day, and am probably going to miss the 4:40 flight . They offer their positions in line. I get to the window, and am told by a pretty Chinese girl “Not ready. Must wait. One hour.” I crumple back into my seat.
2:30 p.m.
They lock the consulate door, thirty of us still waiting to be processed inside. Nice Asian woman next to me comments “This is really inefficient, but not as bad as what you’ll see in China.”
2:40 p.m.
Call NWA (while praying the cell battery holds out). Agent checks to see how many seats are available in my fare class (huh—new twist). Can put me on standby for 6:13 flight. Phone starts doing “the death chime.” I shut it down. Nice Asian woman offers me her cell phone, if I need to make more calls.
3:30 p.m.
Back in line at the pickup window. Finally reach the window. It’s ready! I hand her the $135 money order...and she tells me that NOW the price is $160. Seriously. I dig everything out of my wallet—a whopping $22 and change. That’s it. That’s all. They don’t accept plastic or personal checks, so this is bad news. I’m short by THREE DOLLARS. She goes to get the nice man who slid my application in under the radar. I offer to let him empty my purse as proof I really have no more money. Ask if they’ll accept a traveler’s check (the $50 emergency one I keep in my wallet is still there). No. They don’t. BUT...if I make it out to him personally, he’s got $50 in cash. Wham, bam, thankyouma’am, and we’re done. I race out the door before something else pops up or costs more.
3:50 p.m.
On the street, headed to the EL. Go to Starbuck’s for a potty run and coffee. Back to the EL. Ask the CTA agent on the platform if this absolutely positively is the correct train to get to Midway. “Yup.” “Are you sure, because I’ve had a heck of a day.” Yup. This is it, ma’am.” I get on the train, turn on the iPod, and settle in...
4:05 p.m.
...until I realize we’re going in a circle. I’m not on the orange line to Midway. I’m on the pink Loop line, circling downtown Chicago. Two nice people explain I need to get off at the next stop, move to the opposite platform, take the inbound pink line back into the loop, get off at the first stop, then transfer to the orange line. Got it.
4:25 p.m.
Finally, the pink inbound train arrives...after three outbound have come and gone. I’m cutting this close for the 6:13 flight, especially since I also need to go to ticketing to have a new boarding pass issued. Get on the train, make the transfer, get on the orange. On my way. Decide to try the phone one last time. Send two text messages—one to Jenn, one to Greg, to cover my bases—”Plz call folks. Cell dead. Missed flight. On stdby.” Hit send. Watch little envelope graphic flutter into little mailbox graphic. Phone dies immediately after “Message Sent” screen. Kapput.
5:20 p.m.
Race to ticketing counter. Check to see how many seats are available in my fare class (this is still really weird). Pay fee. Get seat. Race to security (where they weren’t asking anyone for boarding passes???). Hear multiple announcements about cancelled flights. Hear various people talking about air traffic control issues. Hmm.
5:40 p.m.
At the gate, breathless. No plane. More announcements about additional flight cancellations, which seem to be predominantly in the south. Again, hmm.
6:20 p.m.
At last, plane arrives. We board. Sit on the tarmac forever. Finally take off...1/3 of the seats empty. Not a single middle seat had a person in it. With 44 empty seats, not sure why my fare class really mattered.
8:50 p.m.
HOME at last, with my passport and visa. Whew.
The moral(s) of the story?
1. That in spite of all the insane changes, continually growing charges, extraordinary misinformation, and endless you’ve-got-to-be-kidding moments, people were really nice. Not one had an attitude or was rude. The woman at the pickup window was stereotypically abrupt (a Chinese trait), but people generally wanted to help me out, and offered such with a sincerity.
2. Never assume the Chinese consulate has a handle on things. Always take twice as much money as they say you need, plan on twice as much time as expected, and take twice as many Advil as the label suggests.
Peace out.
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