Still in the Waiting Room

It's amazing how wrong it feels to wake up here.

Yet, I am blessed with the best waiting room. It's comfortable and familiar. Not home, but it makes waiting much easier.

So what happened? Ok, here we go.

Slept quite fitfully Tuesday night and all day Wednesday, I slept a little on the flights and ate even less. There was a girl who sat next to me and we clicked. We clicked because we had something in common. We were both going to Edmonton to meet our boyfriends. As fate would have it, we also sat next to each other on the connecting flight.

We were both amazed there was snow covering the ground there. And that it was snowing when we got there. We talked and I told her I was moving. She was concerned about the same thing I was. The "How long will you be staying?" question.

She wished me good luck at customs. I was fully expecting them to give me an authorized visit at the worst.

But no. After asking me the questions, telling me my inventory list wasn't necessary, I heard the rhetorical question that hit me hard. "What makes you think you can just move here?" Her tone didn't help.

So I was sent to the Immigration office. She was nicer but the laws were still as strict and seemingly unfair. And I couldn't just change my mind and stay for only a little while.

I had really only two options. If I did stay for awhile, I couldn't return to Canada for a year. I didn't bother asking if I was allowed to stay as long as I wanted or was I going to be forced out eventually. I probably could had stayed. -sigh- Oh well.

I chose the leave voluntarily option. She said I would have to go on the next flight out. She thought it would be the next morning.

Then insult to injury, the flight was that night. I had less than two hours to say both hi and goodbye. Or as I told Dave, we had to say goodbye before we even got to say hello.

She said they would pay for it if I couldn't.

So I got the horrid certificate and went on to a line that I was third in and didn't move. I have never been so desperate and so that would explain the following two things I would never do in my right mind and if circumstances weren't dire.

I begged the lady in front if I could break. Then I called over to the two officers standing there.

The first one walked over and just said coldly, "You shouldn't be allowed to see your boyfriend anyway."

I didn't get a chance to know how to deal with that before the other one walked over and kindly let me through.

Then I saw Dave and went into hysterics. I gripped my baggage cart and knelt down crying and barely able to tell him I had to go back in less than two hours.

We sat there in the middle of the floor for a few minutes before he decided to make some calls. Nothing came of it so we just sat there numbly and talking about it for awhile. Then I had to go.

We got to the ticket counter and I gave the agent the certificate.

"Cash or credit?"

Ok. This is about where I had a nervous breakdown.

Salt Lake City was going to be $900. Ok. But what about after that?

All the way back home was $1600. I was very short on that amount of cash and Dave didn't have enough on him to cover the difference.

And frankly I was told I didn't have to pay for it!

I screamed at the poor agent, "They want me out of here, but I can't pay that!"

I wasn't mad at him. I was incredibly frustrated. They wanted me gone and I had accepted that morosely. But I couldn't pay the fare and if I went just to Salt Lake City, what would I do? Well, thinking back I could think of several ways that that would have been ok. But at that moment I was at a complete loss and pretty much having a nervous breakdown.

And I refuse to think I was weak. It was a huge shock. Not only that, I was travel weary, hadn't eaten and had no appetite, hadn't slept much.

I really don't know what I would had done had Dave not been there. I'm sure it would had been ok, but I was so glad he was there.

And I can't help but be grateful for the long wait while the agent tried to get cheap rates and discounts and stuff.

I got to rest in Dave's arms. We didn't talk but I had so little energy. I am very grateful for that little time.

I still had to pay but less than half the original price all the way home. But I had an overnight layover. I was ok with that. I had enough money for a hotel.

The agent went with me and expedited the customs and security process.

The customs agent asked, "How are you."

"You really don't want the truth."

She saw the certificate, "I bet it's because of this."

Yea. So I got on the plane. Aisle seat. I learned then why I really prefer the window seat. Not only the view, but I had a wall to lean on.

It wasn't a full flight, so the lady next to me moved over. I got over by the window and cried silently and tried to sleep. I relaxed a little and wrote down some stuff the immigration officer told me. I was feeling a little better.

By the time we landed, I had planned what I would do. How to do it? Ask around. It worked before.

I got my baggage and lugged it and asked about how to get a hotel. There was a kiosk.

I go over and call two knowingly cheap hotels. Motel 8 is way cheaper. So I call them and ask how to get in on this free shuttle thing.

I go to the shuttle desk and long story short, I was amazed how easy it was to take care of this. How grown up I was being.

I get to the hotel. Hope comes when I see free internet (I was willing to pay) because I had needed to get on IRC to ease some of the intense loneliness.

I get to my room and really the first thing I realize I need to do is eat. My body just couldn't handle the measly offerings I made to my stomach.

But instead, I set up a wake-up call and shuttle for the next morning. I also call my mom and then Dave. Just to hear his voice. Because, I was really supposed to be with him anyway. Then I do some running around trying to figure things out. Finally, I gather a few dollars and go down to get change and then get a little pizza.

That vending machine was COOL! It actually cooks the food for you. I hit the elevator button as I waited the minute it took. Got to my room and turned on the TV to some show I never watch, but it's a sitcom and so I idly watch and eat.

I then get on the internet and yay for all the people. :D It made me feel better. Of course I rambled and ranted. Also tried not to be too self-involved. Not sure how that worked out.

I took a shower and felt a little more better after that. The edge was taken off my hunger and loneliness enough that I could go to bed. I did stay up and found a little bug on my leg. Ew.

Anyway I get in bed and sleep a little better. I even laughed a little in my sleep. I think it's really a subconscious-self-engineered-stress-reliever I have. Anyway, I wake up in the middle of the night and see the clock blinking. I can't make it stop so I put it in the floor and go back to sleep.

I wake up, do my morning routine. All but brush my teeth, I forgot where I had packed it, so decide I'll do that when I get home. I get downstairs pay the 48 cents for the long-distance calls and get coffee and eat 4 mini-muffins. I decide to eat while my appetite is ok. But really, it equaled one regular muffin. The shuttle got there before I got to drink my coffee.

While I waited for the shuttle I watched the news. Apparently there was a storm the night before. Might be why the clock had been blinking.

At the airport I get a smoothie that lasts me the flight to Dallas/Fort Worth.

There I decide I can get some lunch. I see a hot dog place. Well, it's like Subway and I feel silly for spending so much money on a simple hot dog. But I want a hot dog and I walked a long way over there. So I get ketchup, onion and cheese on it. Also got chips and a coke with it.

Tried to carry that along with drag my carryon, but ended up sitting at the nearest gate to eat my hot dog. Interesting people watching there. Finally went to B6 until I realize I was supposed to be at B5 which is quite a walk. So I hurry over. On the plane, I had to sit on the front row aisle. Most uncomfortable. But I dozed and watched the flight attendants.

So I got home and here I am. Still need to unpack. How wrong that feels!

But I need to. Not sure how long until we can get immigration stuff worked out and I know I need to fall into some sort of routine. Routine comforts me.

There it is. The long, much too detailed version. Don't feel sorry for me. Don't think the system weird and stupid. I'm doing that enough.

A Mistake I Need to Make

Someone said he thought I was making a dreadful mistake. This is someone I find pretty wise, but I have to stand my ground. My answer to him:

I took the possibility that it's a mistake into account. But I -need- to make the mistake.

I don't think Dave is a mistake. Right now, his faith is stronger than mine. My "falling back" or whatever is not due to him. If anything, it's helping keep whatever faith I -do- have in tact.

How I'm going about it might be a mistake. I wouldn't say dreadful, though.

I'm going to move to Canada. One way or another. Even if things don't work out with him, I may still live in Canada.

I'm not running away. There are people here I hate to leave, but I cannot deny that living there really appeals to me.

I thought this through. I know it -might- be the wrong thing, way or time. But I need to. Please trust my judgment. I know the possible consequences, but I need to take this chance.