I found out where I could get a reloadable card for the subway and most busses: at the post office of all places. I stopped by during my break time, but the line was huge. So, I figured that I would just stop by after school and get in line. I got a number from the dispenser, like at the old fashion deli. "53" Well, the digital board says "37," that's a good sigh. But some quick mental math told me that there were more than 15 people in this little building... Oh o... I saw someone try to go up, but didn't understand why he was rejected. It became very clear 53 was called and I went up. She told me that my number was pink and the others were green... That meant that I had to wait til 100 more numbers were called!!
At this point in my life, I began to wonder if it was worth my time to stand here and wait. (All the seats were taken). I proceeded to read my book and casually explain to confused people why their number was lower than the one on the board. Finally after 2 long hours of waiting, my real number was called and walked up the first window.
After I explained what I wanted, the lady behind class asked if I had my document. Document?! "Which document?" I ask. Assuming I'm a foreigner, she says "Your passport, or a photocopy of it." My heart sunk. I couldn't just run and get it, cause home is an 1 1/2 hours away. I left in a rush of combined fury and disappointment.
I the most crowded ride home I've ever had and reached home exhausted. After I explained myself to my host parents I was chided for A) Not asking for help and B) not having at least photocopies of my passport on me. Oh well, C'est la vie.
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