An adventure at the Embassy

Okay, so I'm in a better place than the last post. Thank God!
So I wanted to share about our appointment at the embassy. Let's just say it was a God thing.
We found out the week before we were suppose to leave that the embassy didn't have a file on us. It seems that the Yakima office didn't forward it to them. So began a series of calls to USCIS - also known as phone tree hell and "let me transfer you to the next level of customer service". It's goes something like this...
USCIS - blah, blah, blah, can I have your service number.
Me - I don't have a service number. It's for a I-600A.
USCIS- Have you submitted an application?
Me - Yes
USCIS -Do you have an approval or denial?
Me - It's been approved.
USCIS - Can I get the service number?
Me - Ummm....there isn't one of the approval letter
USCIS - Ma'am I can't help you without a service number. Let me transfer you to the next level of customer service.
Me - oh, oka....hold music
USCIS - blah, blah, blah ... can I have your service number
Me - AAAGGGHHHHH


We were able to put in a expedited service request. R had to call back and check on the progress. He went through 30 minutes of phone tree, being passed on, being told to go to an office that doesn't see appointments, he finally had a officer who seemed to be able to answer the questions. He was at work, and had to help customers as he held for someone who knew what we were talking about. In the middle of their conservation, he had a customer walk up and need to be helped. He told her to hang on a minute, and she told him he could call back when he wasn't busy. My dear, sweet, unassuming husband told her she could just wait for him to be done, he wasn't going through that again. I was so proud.

They wired our file on Thursday. As in the Thursday before we were to leave. And we had no way of knowing if it was received. On Monday, we received an appointment - so our file had made it. After all the time on the phone with USCIS - that was a God thing.

Once there, we all pile in the car to go to the embassy. R and I, the other couple who were filing, their darling little girl, and Eric. Eric is the social worker, who would be helping us with the process. On the way there we found out he had done this once before. Therefore making him an expert in Haiti. We get there, and go through security. Where they speak Creole and French. And some English. There seemed to be a problem, but we had no idea what. The security officer kept trying to call the lady who our appointment was with, and hanging up before it could have rang more than twice. The only evidence we had we should be there was a copy of an email with our appointments on it. Pretty soon, we figure it out. As they are sending us through without Eric.
Eric didn't have id. Pretty important to those security people at the embassy.
So it was the 5 of us. They pointed us in the right direction, and we knew we were to wait by window 28.
We went through security again. They called the lady again. They waited exactly 2 seconds before slamming the phone down and pointing us down the hall.
The hall opened into a large room. The was a wall of windows, and the rest was seating. Every window had a little P.A. box. Like at the bank drive up window. It was so quiet. We figured out why. They call your name through the little P.A. box into a room with 100+ people. We were told to sit as close to window 28 - so we would hear them call our names. Except that there was no open seats. The open seats were 4 rows away. But window 22. Not going to helpful. We found a place to stand, for about 10 seconds. Because that is how long it too the security guard to direct us sit in those seats 4 rows of chairs away from our window.
Every time we'd hear something come from that window- it sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher, trying to disguise her voice, speaking in French. So one of us would jump up to check if they were calling us. And every eye in the room would follow us.
We had a little backpack of treats and toys for the little girl with us. There were lots of children waiting with parents there. And there was no toys, no books, no treats, no nothing for them to do. They just sat there. No playing, no talking, no whining, just sitting. And their mama's weren't to pleased that we kept pulling out things to keep our little one entertained.
Every time someone would get called up to the window, and a chair opened up - everyone moved. There seemed to be a line they all knew to follow. Except us, we couldn't figure who moved when to where so we stayed put. So they looked at us funny every time they moved, and we stayed.
The fifth time we got up to check, the security guard began to wonder about us. She came over and asked in french something. We handed her our email. And she left with it. And we looked at each other with a slight panic. She took the only evidence that we should be there. She came back with it, and told us to wait. So we waited, and waited. We ate starburst and shared them with some of the kids setting near us. We had stopped getting up every time.
The call came out of the P.A. and sounded like french spoken through a wet towel, and everyone in the room turned and looked at us. The security guard scurried over, and waved to us that it was our turn. She kept saying, "Adoption". I guess it was obvious who they wanted.
We gathered our stuff up, and went to the window. They took our paperwork, and told us to wait. So we did for another 45 minutes. Eric showed up. He told us he didn't bring his ID to work, because he didn't know he'd need it. They called us back up, and we signed some papers, verified information, and were told to wait to be sworn in and sign the I-600. So we waited again. And finally they called us to the beloved window 28. And the guy, in all seriousness, says "Hey, I think I've seen you before." Oh, you mean the five times I came to your window thinking you were calling us. No, not me. Must have been the other white people that are here, oh - I guess that is us.
So we took an oath. To treat Re and Er as our own biological children. By then the room had cleared out. It felt a little anti-climatic. We couldn't take pictures. We didn't have proof other than a letter with an appointment for the birth parent interview. But it was done. Despite all the road blocks that popped up. Go God!!
The last funny thing about the embassy visit - about noon they turned on a soap opera. In English. I think they might have done it for our benefit. No wonder Haitians think all American's are filthy rich and give money away. The do on Days of our Lives.